


Can't fix a peaceful story

by xl_tt



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blood, Bloodplay, Dark Past, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Jeanmarco in the background, Lemon, Lime, Manipulation, POV First Person, Post-Apocalypse, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Slow Build, Smut, Spoilers, heavy spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:31:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 66,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xl_tt/pseuds/xl_tt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After leaving your wrecked world, you seek retribution by meddling in one certain story to fix some of its problems. It started with saving Marco Bott. While high ranking Survey Corps members know about your origins (at least the official version you fed them), you begin to sympathize with the gentle giant himself. Then, of course, things get complicated and shit hits the fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once upon a time

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are older in this story, at least 21 years old. The Reader is 29, has two younger sisters, is quite agile, afraid of heights, used to live in Japan (this does not mean The Reader is Japanese, only that she lived there). All the names in the story (except The Reader's) are fixed. Please understand that all this is essential for the plot.
> 
>  **Warnings** : heavy spoilers, very foul language, graphic depictions of violence - some **very graphic** , self-inflicted injury, self-hate thoughts, smut, mild blood play. Might contain traces of Mike.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Added 29/07/17: This is one of the first fics I've ever written (and one of the first long texts in English, too, since English is my 3rd language), so it's very, very far from my current best. I don't think this one is bad, but comparing to how my skills have developed since I finished this story, it's so-so. But I'm not going to go back to it and edit anything, I'm just leaving it as it is. Just to have a comparison with how much better I can do now.

I was laying on my stomach on the flat roof of the Eastern Tower. The day was off, they had some holiday. I appreciated those moments free of work, free of people constantly attacking me with questions. Of course, I wasn't alone. I was never alone, there always was at least one person to keep watch on me. I yawned and stretched like a cat. I was told several times that my movements were quirky, strange in the eyes of anyone who watched me long enough, like I had no bones in my body whatsoever. Those remarks pleased me.

I looked down. Bertolt Hoover was sitting on the platform below, his legs swinging slightly over the edge. The previous guard shift was Sasha's, filled with chatting and gossip, what a difference compared to now. Not that I would mind peace and quiet, it was very welcome after using up most of my social interaction energy. Hoover was vacantly picking at his fingernails and the soft skin around them. I gritted my teeth.

“Stop it.”

He skipped out of thought and looked up, blushing gently. His hands stopped moving and he rested them on his lap.

Five minutes later he started over again. I closed my eyes for a moment and quietly climbed down, watching carefully not to alert him; I sneaked right behind him and snaked my hand around to slap his fingers.

He yelped and I held him by his shoulders in case he lost balance and fell forward. I leaned in, my breath brushed the shell of his ear.

“You are doing a particularly shitty job at watching me, Hoover,” I hissed and released him. I stepped back and lay down in the shade, too warmed up and almost sweaty after sitting in the sun. There was no wind whatsoever and crickets were signalling their presence everywhere like there was no tomorrow.

“S-sorry.” He stood up and turned around, facing me in a salute, looking straight forward. “... ma'am.”

“Oh, sit down.” I sighed. “You're not really watching me. Rather over me. I'm not going anywhere.” I chuckled, taking on a mockingly poetic, pretentious tone. “They'd find me wherever I go. Doesn't matter who they are. I draw people near, like flies to rotting flesh.”

“I...” Hoover gulped, peeked at me and immediately looked away. “That is... an ugly comparison.”

“It's like it is.” I laughed.

He went silent. After a while he sat down, four or five feet away.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

“Why what? Why people pull to me?” I rolled my eyes, tracing my sight along the poles and planks of the canopy above us. “I am- not... from... here,” I said slowly, struggling to find every word, like I was blindly digging my fingers into a clutter box in search for pearls, while I could also slice my skin against shards of glass inside it.

“What- what do you mean?” He stiffened. I didn't answer. The buckles of his manoeuvre gear were clicking when he shook lightly. I shrugged and raised my hand over my face, watching the roof between the spaces of my spread fingers. I placed my arm back on the ground in a flowing motion. Hover's eyes traced after it, obviously hypnotised.

“I know a whole lot of things that neither of you people don't,” I said lazily, closing my eyes. I took a deep, calm breath.

“W-what things?”

“ _Enough_.” I opened my eyes and stared at him suddenly. I saw a bead of sweat running down his temple. “I know enough.”

Hoover's eyes were round and his lips parted.

“Yes,” I murmured, closing my eyes again.

My breath was slow and even and he probably thought that I fell asleep. He flinched when I spoke again.

“I know who everyone is. I know what happened to Yeager's father. I know who Ymir is. I know who Krista is... what's Levi's last name. I know who would have killed Marco if I didn't save him. And I _know_ you, too.”

“Wha-what?!” Hoover jumped to his feet. I smiled, my eyes still closed.

“You know that you can't do anything. You can't silence me. You can't kill me either,” I continued in the same lazy manner. “I'm not even sure if I can die here.”

I paused for a couple of minutes again, listening to his uneven breath.

“Come closer,” I said. He complied. “Sit down.” After he did, I opened my eyes and looked at him without any expression. “Don't worry. I'm not going to tell. Probably,” I shrugged again. “You are a nice young man. You were a naïve kid. You were lied to.” I watched as he bit his lips, not looking at me. “You regret it more than everything,” I said quietly, pouring things that he wanted to hear. Bertolt shut his eyes tightly, his face wrinkled with a barely withheld cry. I sat up. I was a good foot shorter than him, so he was still towering over me, even when he was sitting as well. I pulled him forward to rest his head on my shoulder and I stroked his hair.

“Shh, shh, you need to get it out,” I whispered blankly. “Don't hold it.”

A high-pitched sob escaped Bertolt's teeth. His arms sprang forward to wrap around me so tightly it hurt. I paid no mind to it, stroking his hair and rubbing circles on his upper back with my other hand while he shook and sobbed aloud. My shirt got damp with his sweat and tears. I paid no mind to it either. I felt so sorry for him.

“I will tell you a story,” I murmured, pressing my cheek to his hair. “Once upon a time, there lived a person. Their world was on fire, war after war. The fallout was putting down all life around. The person knew that it would soon spread beyond the world's borders and gravely endanger other worlds. So the person destroyed their homeland. With everyone on it.” My voice was fading to a whisper. “Not dozens. Not hundreds, and not thousands.” I was now barely breathing out the words. Bertolt went quiet, listening intently, his arms shaking. “Millions. Even though the person suspected it could've ended different. _Better._ ”

“No...” Bertolt's voice was just as quiet. His grip loosened and I smiled sadly.

“The person knew stories. A lot of stories. They knew how to travel inside. But they were mistaken by thinking they could get out,” I concluded and laughed. I let go of Bertolt and lay back again.

“You are as much at fault as a sword in someone's hand,” I said, closing my eyes. “I'm the guilty one.” My breathing evened and slowed down to a calm pace.

Bertolt moved infirmly.

“S-sometimes there's just as... as m-much you can... do,” he said hoarsely.

I chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate every piece of feedback - please let me know what you think!


	2. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover in a very clear way that it might be not possible for you to die in this universe, and witness the reactions of Sonny and Bean upon your appearance. Bertolt is awkward. Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains lime, self-inflicted injury, blood, licking blood, some foul language.

The next two weeks the Survey Corps spent on preparations to catch Rhod Reiss and put Historia on the throne. I asked Erwin to assign Bertolt as my regular guard and I manoeuvred out of revealing anything. His identity wasn't the only reason I asked. Of all the people I was seeing around, he was the only one that had no ability to exhaust me mentally and socially, maybe beside Marco and Armin. I stayed away especially from Yeager, the sole sight of him made me cringe.

Not that Bertolt was much needed around, since most time I was spending being questioned, while he had to stand outside, behind closed door. It was tiring and annoying, especially when I didn't know exact details of something, or did not know the person in question.

“I don't know _everything_ , for fuck's sake,” I groaned with frustration when I was asked about Kenny Ackerman's headquarters and names of his squad members. “Your story wasn't exactly rich in those details. I can tell you who he is for Levi, though.” I smirked, looking at the Corporal sitting on the couch in the other corner of Erwin's office. Levi raised his eyebrow. “I think it's more of a private ear matter though, it doesn't change the course of events.”

Three hours later I was set free. I mean, out of the office. Bertolt was waiting by the opposite wall of the corridor, leaning his back on it, his hands folded neatly behind. At the sight of me, he straightened up and bit his lower lip before he smiled faintly.

“One moment, Bertolt,” I said. “I'll be right back.” I went around the corner with Levi stepping on my heels.

“So?” Levi asked. He did a good job at hiding his tense expectancy.

“He is your mother's older brother,” I said.

Levi chewed the new information under his expressionless façade. I turned on my heel to walk away.

“Thank you,” Levi said.

“That's what I'm here for,” I said bitterly. “Otherwise I'm useless.”

I marched past Bertolt to the courtyard, trailed by his footsteps. It was early in the evening, stars were appearing on the fading sky.

“Are you hungry?” I asked Bertolt.

“No, Reiner brought me dinner when I was waiting.” He shook his head. “But you should eat something, you hadn't had anything since breakfast.”

“Not hungry,” I snarled. I looked up and down and sighed. “Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you.”

“It's n-nothing.” Bertolt gave me a sheepish smile. “Where would you like to go, then? It's getting late. Curfew's up soon.”

I sighed again and looked around hopelessly.

“The Eastern Tower, I guess. I like it there. I'm afraid of heights, you know.” I chuckled.

Bertolt frowned and followed to walk beside me.

“But that tower is the tallest? I don't understand.”

“It's the thought that I could fall down and die that's pulling me there,” I murmured. “I don't even know if I _can_ die here. It bothers me.” I frowned, too. I looked down at Bertolt's manoeuvre gear, at the hidden blades.

* * *

I sat in the middle of the platform, far from the edges. Bertolt sat somewhere behind me. I could hear him anxiously cracking his knuckles.

“Stop it,” I said automatically.

“Sorry.” Bertolt giggled nervously. I looked behind at him. His face was sweaty, shining even in this dim light. I chuckled and crawled closer on all fours. I reached out my hand and touched his cheek for a moment. I sat on my heels and examined the same hand up close.

“You are quite hot indeed.”

Bertolt was staring at me with an utterly awkward expression. He looked like he wanted to jump down off the tower and fly up in the air at the same time. I snorted.

“And so much more adorable than in the story. Someone did a shitty job on describing here.” I watched with amusement how Bertolt's face went bright red.

“You were wrong b-before,” he stuttered, clasping his hands on his knees until his knuckles were white. “You are not useless.”

I snorted again, this time without any amusement. I looked up at him. I had an idea.

“Say, Hoover...” I started, slowly crawling closer from when I sat back. “Would you allow me...” Bertolt looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “... to do... something?”

“S-s-something?” Bertolt's voice escaped his clenched throat in a squeak.

“Yesss, something...” I crawled right in front of him, close enough for my nose to touch his collarbone. I glanced up at him and smiled grimly. I placed my hand on his waist and slid it down slowly, not letting my eyes down from his wide opened. I moved my hand over his thigh and traced it to the side. Then in one swift move, I pulled out one of the blades, rolled back and slit the edge along the outer side of my forearm. Blood dripped from the shallow cut.

“ _What are you doing?!_ ” Bertolt yelped and skipped to tear the blade out of my hand and throw it to the other side of the platform. He grasped my wounded forearm and let out a panicked whimper. I stared with mild interest as the wound closed in a matter of seconds, leaving only a faint scar and remains of dripping blood. _Just like I suspected_ , I thought. I snickered.

“Knock yourself out,” I said inertly, raising the arm further to his face. Bertolt looked even more horrified. “I know you like blood.” I shrugged.

“I-I...” Bertolt was struggling to make his mind work while he was eyeing my forearm. Before he stuttered anything more, I shoved the bloodied side between his lips. He widened his eyes in shock before he half-closed them and began licking it off. He wasn't adorable now. He was enticing. He was sucking and nibbling my skin, his tongue was lapping over every stained bit leaving traces of saliva, cooling fast despite how warm he was. My heart skipped a beat and I looked away for a moment, feeling a faint blush creeping on my cheeks. When I looked back, he was finished with the blood, but he continued, slowly making his way to my palm, covering my hand in feather kisses; suddenly he paused and turned his eyes to mine. They were wide open again, his expression bewildered. Bertolt flinched away.

“Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so s-sorry!” He gasped. “I sh-shouldn't h-h-have!”

I was not less bewildered than he was, but I hid it well.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” I sent him a skewed smile. I took pity on him. “Come, see me to my room and be on your way to your dormitory. Enough events for today.”

Bertolt still looked shocked and embarrassed, but a sign of relief layered over his face.

* * *

The next week I was walking downstairs from my room to the courtyard. Bertolt was stepping before me, glancing back every once in a while. He knew about a faulty stair and skipped it. I didn't know about it and this morning it decided for that lack of knowledge to bite me in the ass. I found myself with my leg stuck up my knee between cracked wood. Splinters pierced and scratched my calf deeply. I yelped and scowled. I naturally kept my balance, although it was difficult. Bertolt gasped and turned around to get me out. I whined when the same splinters scratched me in the opposite direction, and my eyes watered a little.

“Are you okay?” he asked in his typical squeaky-panicked voice.

“Holy fuck,” I hissed. I tried to stand straight but I only yelped again, feeling awful pain in my ankle. “Fuckfuckfuck.” I closed my eyes.

“What should I do?” Bertolt looked around like he hoped for some instructions to be carved into the bricks.

“Carry me back to my room,” I said.

Bertolt hesitated. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it back instead.

“Do it.”

He bit his lips and reached his hands to me. He lifted me up, keeping one arm under my knees and the other near the small of my back. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I could feel his hands shaking. Bertolt began climbing up the stairs, throwing gazes everywhere to avoid making an eye contact with me. I, on the other hand, was observing him shamelessly. I did like his high cheekbones and long eyelashes, and his pale green eyes. His skin was a bit more sweaty than usual. He parted his lips to breathe and I watched them as well. They looked soft. He ran his tongue along them and now they shone slightly. I barely restrained myself from tracing my finger over those lips.

When I was finally set on my bed, I asked him to take off my boot. I wasn't dressed in the Corps uniform, only in a plain shirt and long skirts, and laced light boots reaching halfway up my calf. Upon hearing my request, Bertolt blushed. He started carefully unlacing the boot.

“I'm going t-to remove it now,” he warned anxiously. “I hope it doesn't hurt.” He delicately pulled and I gritted my teeth to keep quiet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, pull it off already,” I snarled. “O-ooowww!” I bent forward and clenched my teeth. The boot was laying on the floor. I took off the thin sock and studied my ankle, reddened and swelling. I scraped up hems of my skirts to examine my calf. Bertolt gulped, but I paid no mind. My skin was full of splinters, deeper and shallower scratches, most of them still bleeding. I sighed.

“Bottom drawer. Bandages, ointments, and penicillin,” I said. Bertolt let out a long withheld breath and stood up from his knees to bring the supplies. He gently rubbed in two different ointments around my ankle. He didn't look up at me even once before he picked up one roll of bandages.

“I know h-how to treat places where the gear straps make bruises,” he said.

“Should be good enough, just make it tight.” I closed my eyes, lay back on the bed and pulled my legs on the pillow. “You have surprisingly delicate hands, you know?”

Bertolt's breath hitched and his cheeks turned bright red.

“Th-thank you,” he whispered. He traced his fingers along the bandaged space. “This should be okay.”

“Now the splinters,” I said with a scowl. “There's a needle in the bandage box.”

Bertolt was apologising me every time I hissed at the needle going deeper for leverage. It took a long while before he got rid of all the splinters. Then he stopped, peeking at me tentatively. 

My calf was still bloody from those cuts, though they closed up already. I shrugged and closed my eyes again.

“Go for it.”

I bit my bottom lip and grasped the blanket on the side not facing Bertolt when he began the same ministrations as the other evening.

“Does it at least taste good, this blood of mine?” I asked, trying not to sound hesitant.

“It does...” Bertolt said hotly against my skin, seemingly too occupied to be shy.

We heard footsteps and we darted from each other. Bertolt knocked out one of the ointment jars, but luckily the contents were too dense to spill. I sat up and let my healthy leg down while Bertolt was picking up the medical kit. Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” I said calmly.

The door opened and Hange stepped in, concern on their face.

“I was waiting for you for half an hour and decided to check up on you, and then I saw the broken step on my way, are you all right?”

“Just twisted my... ankle...” I frowned and touched it. “Ahh, it seems it's healed already.” I told Hange about my experiment with the blade the other day. “I thought it would take longer. It's difficult to grasp the concept.”

“Almost like a titan!” Hange squealed. I didn't have to look at Bertolt to know he was stunned at their words. “Come, put your shoe on and let's talk! Or not, we can talk here!” Their eyes were shining as much as their teeth in a wide grin. Bertolt put the jars and bandages into the drawer and closed it with a quiet click. Hange turned their head to look at him.

“Would you mind getting ______-san's breakfast here, Cadet Hoover?”

“N-not at all, S-sir,” answered Bertolt, staring at the floor like he could hide that his blush was still clinging to his face. Not waiting for any other instructions, he turned on his heel and quickly marched out of my room.

Hange waited until his steps quieted in the distance before they let out an excited screech.

“Seems he likes you, ______-san!”

I locked my eyes onto a little scratch on the wall, one eyebrow raised.

“Come on!” Hange giggled. I shrugged. Hange moved the chair from the table to my bed and sat on it. They stared at me with wide, hungry eyes. “So, how long did it take for your ankle to heal?”

“Twenty minutes, I guess, give or take,” I said. I leaned forth to unwrap the bandages. The swell and redness were gone. The only proof was some scarce remains of dry blood – the ones that Bertolt hadn't managed to lick off before we were interrupted. Hange was examining them curiously.

“How did you get the blood only halfway off like this? I can't see any wet cloth around,” they asked, nudging my calf with their index finger.

“Bertolt must have hidden it with the bandages, silly boy.” I faked a chuckle.

“The most ultimately shy twenty-two I've ever seen!” Hange giggled. Their mouth formed a perfect “o” when a thought came to their mind. “How old are you, ______-san?

“Twenty nine,” I said with a scowl. “A batshit spinster.”

“You surely don't look twenty nine, are you hiding something?” Hange wiggled her eyebrows.

“You just haven't seen me when I wake up after failing to fall asleep for four hours.” I snickered.

“_-_____-san doesn't look bad in the morning either.” Bertolt appeared at the door with a small tray stacked full with food. They fed me well, even though I asked to give me whatever they give to the cadets. I suspected it was Bertolt's doing.

Hange snorted and threw me a meaningful look, making Bertolt's cheeks burn even worse. He closed the door, placed the tray on the table, and stepped away to lean his back on the wall, holding his hands behind him. Unsurprisingly, he was looking anywhere but at us.

“Hange-san,” I said, “regarding your previous remark... are Erwin and Levi...?”

“Oooh, so you're not the only one!” Hange's eyes were only kept in place by their glasses that didn't allow them to pop out. I truly liked Hange. I sighed. 

“Well, let's go and see your babies, Hange, after I eat.”

* * *

Sonny and Bean were behaving particularly odd in my presence. They didn't try to eat me nor grab me, unlike any other human that stepped too close. They were only silently watching me with great focus, their huge, murky eyes following my figure wherever I went. So did Bertolt's, but his eyes were fearful when he was switching glances between me and the two titans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "shifters like the taste of blood" thing was written after wingedmermaid's Changing Seasons. Go check it out, it's utterly fabulous. http://archiveofourown.org/works/1519796/chapters/3213224


	3. Making things even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension between you and Bertolt rises and then it breaks and draws you in, but the peaceful and happy time after is abruptly cut when the screwing with the story returns to bite you in the ass. Or, to be exact, the upper right quarter of your body. Sounds familiar?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings. Contains lemon, some foul language, blood licking, graphic depictions of injury, lots of blood (but not licking that one lol). And Mike.

It was raining when I finished another session with Erwin and Levi. This time I took pleasure in catching any signs of something going on between them and I had a whole list to chuckle about with Hange for the next morning. I walked out into the courtyard and the downpour flooded me within moments, not giving much time for Bertolt to take off his jacket and spread it above my head. I looked up at him and laughed.

“No point,” I said. “We are both soaking wet already. Let's just go to the castle.” I started running towards the entrance. Bertolt had much longer legs than mine, so I had no doubt I was slowing him down, but he only passed me when we were at the doorsteps, to open the entrance. I stood in the hall and shook like a dog, sending droplets everywhere. My clothes were dripping, my hair was glued to my head. I looked at Bertolt and snorted. He was soaking wet as well, his hair nearly covering his eyes, his shirt clang to his skin, showing all the curves of his muscles. I absently bit my lip at the sight, until I regained consciousness and looked away.

“Let's go,” I said. “We both need to change. You'll have trouble removing those wet straps now, so go ask some cadet to help you.”

Bertolt hesitated, obviously not wanting to let down his guard. I rolled my eyes.

“Go, nothing will happen in ten minutes in safe headquarters. _At least nothing dangerous_ ,” I added, smirking at Bertolt's usual blush. I turned on my heel and proceeded to my room. Walking in those dripping, cold clothes was unpleasant.

I started with my boots. Unlacing proved difficult in their state, so I spent a good while on that before I could take care of my shirt, facing a similar problem with the buttons. I sighed, irritated. A puddle was forming around my feet. I went on to my skirts and there I was stuck. The tape keeping it in its place, tied on the back, was obviously wet as well, which made it impossible to untie the knot. I closed my eyes, hoping for peace of mind.

A knock at the door.

“Come in, Hoover,” I said, still trying to take off the skirt, awkwardly hunching, sticking my hands behind. The door creaked and I heard a gasp. I rolled my eyes.

“This world and its pointless decency, I swear... haven't you ever seen bare back? Help me with this fucking skirt, I can't take it off.”

There was silence for a long moment. Then Bertolt closed the door and hesitantly stepped towards me. He took a deep breath before he placed his hands at the knot, brushing them slightly against my own hands.

“I-I can't untie this,” he groaned. I felt him shifting when he knelt down. I pushed back a snort, imagining me standing half-naked and Bertolt kneeling in front of my butt. “I can't... ughhh...”

“Come on, I can't wait until it fucking dries,” I whined. Then I felt Bertolt's breath on my lower back. “Hoover, what are you doing?”

“I'll t-try, umm, t-teeth?” His voice was quiet and somewhat squeaky. I glanced over my shoulder. His cheeks were burning, passing over tomato shade right into a beetroot. A drop of sweat ran down his temple. He bit his lips, staring somewhere to the side. I sighed, failing to cover a little shaking of breath.

“Yeah, go on.”

I felt Bertolt's nose touching my skin, and then his upper lip. He held the brim on the both sides of the knot, his knuckles pressed to my skin as well. I bit my lower lip, failing to hide a shiver. He nibbled at the knot.

“I think it's getting loose,” he said after a while of struggle. I let out a breath that I was holding all that time. He straightened up and picked at the knot with his fingernails again. The next moment my skirts were slipping down and Bertolt grasped them in panic to keep them in place. That meant his hands on my hips.

“Ehm. Thanks for the help,” I said. “You can get up.”

He obeyed, still holding the skirts. I snorted and removed his hands, letting the cloth fall to the floor. Bertolt gasped and took a step back.

“It's c-c-clear, I'm n-n-not looking,” he said with even more panic in his voice. I sighed and turned around to face his back. As usual, he kept his hands behind him, and I could see that he was squeezing them so hard that his knuckles were completely white. I smirked and took off my pants. I went past him and opened the drawer to find a nightgown. It was plain and functional, and there wasn't much else to say about it. It had no trace of anything enticing. I sneaked on my toes right in front of him and locked my eyes onto his face.

“Open your eyes,” I said. Bertolt flinched, not expecting me to stand so close. He took an anxious step back. I snickered, went towards the bed, and caved under the blankets.

“So,” I started, looking at him with amusement, “do you know any bedtime stories?”

“Umm...” Bertolt's face took on an expression of a student faced with an impossible question.

“No? Very well, I'll tell you one. Sit.” I patted the bed. Bertolt hesitantly sat at the side, almost at my feet. I took a calm, deep breath. “Once upon a time, there was a desert planet. It means a world that was covered in desolated sands and rocks, mostly. It had two suns. Its name was _Tatooine_.”

* * *

The next day I met Mike Zacharius and his squad. They were talking among each other and with Hange in the courtyard, and I approached Mike from behind. He turned around when I was still good six feet away, and looked at me in a severely puzzled expression. I stepped closer, leaned in... and I sniffed, making as much noise as I could. Hange was almost paralysed with laughter. Mike frowned, leaned forward as well, and sniffed. Then he hummed, puzzled even more.

“So?” I raised my eyebrows with a smirk. “What do I smell of?”

“Apart from the usual,” Mike said slowly, still trying to process, “I have no idea what this is.”

“Come, Hoover. Wouldn't like to keep the Commander from shrinking me through with his questions again,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Actually, ______-san!” Hange waved. “I booked this whole day for you, we're going to do something fun!” They were nearly bouncing with excitement. 

That's how Bertolt found himself holding his jacket over me, so the sun could have some mercy on me as I've never been too fond of spending too much time in the summer heat. Poor boy was soaking wet, sweat slowly trailing down his forehead, temples, and neck, and drenching his shirt. Hange seemed to be unaffected, skipping around while leading us towards the forest.

“Oi, shitty glasses!”

I was the only one not to turn around immediately. I didn't have to, the voice and the words made it easy to guess the source.

“Erwin called a special meeting, Mike's got things to say.” Levi was standing twenty feet behind us with crossed arms and stone face. Hange screeched, looking back at me.

“Well, we'll have to postpone it!” they smiled painfully. “I'd suggest going back to the headquarters, no wondering what's in those forests.”

I watched them walking away. Hange was flailing, Levi obviously was ignoring it.

“I wonder what's it about,” I said.

“What do you mean? You know the s-story.” Bertolt was still holding his jacket above me. I glanced up at his sweaty face.

“I know who is who, and I remember some events. I don't know how much I changed the flow by appearing here and meddling into this business. Hence I don't know what the meeting is about,” I said slowly. “They will tell me later, I suppose. Or rather they will ask me questions and I'll figure out what they learnt from Mike.” I smiled bitterly. “Let's go back, this place feels like a frying pan.”

* * *

I sat on the table in my room, fanning myself with my hand. The air was dead, not a slightest breeze, nothing to click the open window frames against each other. Thankfully my room was on the north side of the castle, and the stones were old and thick, so the heat wasn't as unbearable as outside. I sniffed.

“No wonder you sweat so much while you just steam into the air otherwise, without all that skin.” I snorted. Bertolt giggled nervously.

“I've never thought about it that way.”

“You look better in this tiny form anyway.” I smirked. “If you could call _that_ tiny.”

Bertolt almost choked, and I laughed.

“Well, ain't th... owwww, shit!” I covered my mouth, scowling. “I bit m' tongue, damn it.” I jumped off the table, still scowling and trying my tongue against my teeth. “I think it's bleeding.” I placed my index finger in my mouth to examine. Sure enough, there it was, blood mixed a bit with saliva. I stared at the finger, and then my focus shifted to Bertolt, who was standing exactly along the line. He gulped.

“Come here,” I said. I tried on my most commanding voice, and he didn't even hesitate. I grasped the front of his soaked shirt and pulled him down. My heart was beating wildly at this proximity. I raised the bloody finger and traced it along his lips; he licked it off immediately, and kissed away anything remaining on my fingertip. He swallowed thickly, staring at my lips until he blinked and flinched away with a gasp. I rolled my eyes.

“Do I have to bite myself again?” I asked with a seemingly serious face. Bertolt was gazing at me with eyes wide open. “Get back here.” He obliged. I had to tilt my head back to stare into his eyes, but it felt like I was actually staring down at him.

“Do you want to kiss me, Hoover?” I asked sternly. “Have you been thinking about it the past three weeks?”

“Umm...” Bertolt looked like he was about to die of a heart attack.

“Bertolt.” That was the first time I called him by his name and although I spoke it softly, it hit him like a brick. His cheeks flooded red, and so did his ears. It was difficult to say if he started sweating more, obviously.

“Y-yes. Yes.” His answer came out quieter than a breath.

“Come here,” I said. He obliged. “Lean down. Close your eyes.” I ran my tongue over my chapped lips before I bit down harshly on the lower one. I barely ghosted them at Bertolt's lips, staining his with my blood. I watched as he licked it off, and then he inched his face to close the distance. He began with kissing the tiny cracks in my lips that harboured even smaller amounts of the blood. I observed his eyelashes, so delightfully long. I felt my knees tremble, so I wove my fingers on his nape. Bertolt twitched at my move, but he gingerly cupped my face and kissed with more energy. We parted, and he rested his forehead on mine, not opening his eyes, breathing deeply. His thumbs were grazing my cheeks, up and down, smoothly and gently.

“Aren't you uncomfortable?” I whispered hoarsely, running fingers of my right hand through his dark chocolate hair. “It's quite a way down to me. _Kneel._ ”

Bertolt knelt down. His eyes were now at the level of my collarbones. He gazed at me with a small, asking smile. Those lovely, lovely pale green eyes framed with delightfully long eyelashes. I traced my finger down from his temple, over his cheekbone, along his jaw and chin, to his lips.

“Hug me.”

Bertolt gently wrapped his arms around me and turned his head to press his ear over my heart. I stroked his hair with one hand, the other rested across his back, and I leaned my head onto his.

“I hope they forget about me today,” I murmured. Bertolt hummed in response.

“Lock the door.” He lingered before he stood up with a sigh. I shuddered, having him so close and towering over me. “Go on!” I poked him, and turned to sit on the bed. Bertolt gulped. He twisted the key and he stood there, looking at me, a raging blush creeping onto his face again.

“I'm not going to eat you.” I rolled my eyes, but then I squinted. “Come here and sit down.”

“Yes.”

Once he sat next to me, I slid onto my side, rolled my legs up onto the bed, and placed my head on his lap. His breath hitched.

“Stroke my hair,” I commanded.

There was a knock on the door.

“I'm naked, go away,” I said in a monotonous voice. I felt Bertolt shiver, and his hand shook. There was a moment of silence, and then a fading sound of footsteps.

“Comfort me, Hoover,” I said in the same voice. “Like one monster to another.” I closed my eyes. “Tell me things I need to hear.”

I waited a long, long time, enjoying the nimble fingers running through my hair. After it felt like ages passed, I smirked sadly.

“There really is nothing to say indeed,” I said.

“We are monsters,” whispered Bertolt, continuing the tender strokes. “But so are all those soldiers killing titans.”

“You were all set up for this,” I answered just as quietly. “Titans eat humans to have a chance to free themselves from the nightmare, and people kill titans just for the same reason.” I paused, not opening my eyes. “I got out of my nightmare just for my own selfish sake.”

“I don't think you got out of it at all,” he mumbled under his breath. “Good dreams don't look like this.”

“This one's not so bad now,” I murmured with a faint smile. “So, tell me, Hoover... when I asked you if you wanted to kiss me, it wasn't really the whole _truth_ , was it?”

“W-what do you m-mean?” Bertolt's voice went up to the squeak levels.

“I mean that you were rather thinking about fucking me through this bed onto the floor until I forget my name and lose my breath. Am I right, Hoover?” I opened my eyes and lazily turned my head to look at him with amusement. He seemed to had lost his ability to exist. First he went pale, and then his cheeks flushed beetroot. “I'd get on with it, you know, Zacharius is a man of few words and solid facts. Am I right, Hoover?”

“Yes,” Bertolt whispered with closed eyes. I sat up.

“Yes what?” I asked teasingly. “Huh?”

“I...” Bertolt swallowed thickly. “I... want to... make love with you,” he said in a shaky voice. “Now.” He added, much less shyly. I grasped his shoulders and pulled him towards me; he had to support himself on one arm, placed on the bed right next to me so he wouldn't fall forward.

“Go on,” I hissed. He placed his hand below my neck and gently lowered me onto the bed. In one smooth move, he traced the same hand up my neck and to my cheek, stroking a circle before he withdrew it to take off his shirt. I reached out my fingers to touch those finely defined muscles. Bertolt shivered.

“Thank goodness you don't have all that fucking gear on you today,” I murmured. “Are you waiting for a written invitation to unclothe me?”

Bertolt leaned down to steal a sweet kiss while he began unbuttoning my shirt. When it was finished, he slowly moved the halves aside and he glanced briefly at my breasts. His face was covered red again, but he traced his hands over my chest, and circled my nipples with his thumbs. I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh. I raised my back so he could pull off my shirt and throw it aside.

“Your boots, socks, trousers, get them off,” I commanded with a sly, lazy smile. I kicked off my own footwear from my homeland, light flip-flops with wooden soles and two straps to hold them on between my toes; they fell onto the floor with two loud thumps. I watched Bertolt undressing, the muscles, and the bruises left by the manoeuvre gear, milk coffee skin with a slight shine from the heat. I sat up and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my cheek to his shoulder blade. Bertolt shuddered; he gently untangled my arms and pushed me back on the pillows in the same manner. My today's skirt had the knot at the side. He reached to untie it, and I snorted. He frowned.

“What is it?” While his voice was still very quiet, most of his shyness seemed not to be anywhere near.

“You'll see.”

Bertolt pulled on the belt of my skirt and I heard him taking a sharp breath. I chuckled.

“You'll be one piece of cloth behind me when you take off my skirt, so get to it.”

Bertolt slid my skirt off nearly in a hurry. He was still sitting next to me, breathing deeply, taking in the picture of me laying there completely naked. He traced his hand from my stomach to my thigh and blinked slowly.

“Breathtaking,” he whispered. I grasped that hand and pulled him, and wrapped one of my legs on his hip.

“Take those pants off and fuck me already,” I growled. Bertolt gasped and almost fell off the bed when he was removing his underwear. I giggled inaudibly. I pulled him over me and framed his hips with my thighs. I closed my eyes and titled my head to the side when I felt him positioning himself. I let out a long, quiet moan when he slowly pushed into me, his breath hitched through clenched teeth. He cupped my face with one hand, supporting himself on the other, and trailed down open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and neck, while rocking his hips, steadily picking up pace. I dug my nails into his shoulders and moved my own hips to meet his rhythm. The room was filled with our panting, quiet moans, and slight creaking of the bed.

I crossed my legs above his hips. I ran my fingers through his damp hair and I let out a not so quiet whimper when he hit the right spot. We kissed sloppily. Bertolt moved his hand from my cheek to my breast, squishing and massaging it in circles, making me arch my back and bite my lips tightly to prevent a very loud groan. He let go of my breast and snaked his hand behind my head, he leaned down to lick off the blood I drew with the bite.

Bertolt hissed my name into my ear and I moaned in response, his hips flowing up and down between my shaking legs. “What... was it... that you've said... to me?”

“Screw me until I can't speak,” I panted, leaving curved scratches across his back. I leaned up and harshly bit his skin on the crook of his neck, making him yelp.

“Oh gods... Ber... Bertolt... hnnn-harder...”

Bertolt groaned and caught under my right knee, pressing my thigh to my stomach to have better access. He thrust deep into me while I scratched his skin and whimpered and begged for more. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling like my voice was blocked somewhere in my throat, feeling a hot pool spreading inside between my thighs. I dug my fingernails into his skin with all my might and sharply bit into the same place in the crook of his neck to muffle a cry. I squirmed and shook, and pressed myself as close as I could, while he sped up and after a couple of more heartbeats Bertolt buried his face in the side of my neck and moaned, sending his last erratic pushes into me.

Everything slowed down and Bertolt rolled onto the bed beside me.

“Still... can... s-speak?” He uttered after a while.

“Nnnnfffm,” I breathed out in an attempt to form a sentence. We were laying there for a good moment before I crawled onto his chest and leaned down to kiss off the small trace of blood that elevated from my earlier bite. Bertolt hummed and opened his gorgeous eyes.

“Take me to shower,” I mumbled.

I had my own tiny bathroom attached to my room. Bertolt stood up and hunched to pick me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck and closed my eyes again, a triumphant smile crept onto my face.

“Best idea ever,” I murmured.

We stood in the shower. The water wasn't even approximately warm, so it kicked us out from the lazy, tired state to leave contentment, and in Bertolt's case, a bit of awkwardness. I clang to him, pressed my cheek to his chest, and snaked my arms around him, humming and listening to his strong heartbeat.

“Are you happy?” I asked, feeling my breath finally going back to the usual state.

“Yes, quite,” Bertolt said tenderly, tracing circles on my back with one hand. The other caught the tap and turned off the water.

“But?”

Bertolt took a towel and began drying my skin and hair.

“I-i just wonder, why this story? You must know nice, peaceful stories.”

I looked down at him. He was seemingly pointing his attention to my thigh, but I knew he was listening very intently.

“You can't fix a nice story,” I whispered. “I owe this to... ugh.” I went quiet, my frowned gaze stopped somewhere to the side, on the floor. Bertolt stood up and placed his hands on my shoulders. I subconsciously inched closer for a hug. “There's nothing that can change what I did, deliberately or not. But I can help here.”

My eyes were prickling, so I closed them. 

“I'm... so cold...” I stiffened and stood straight.

“Wha-” Bertolt looked down at me in confusion mixed with concern. I felt my face with my left hand. The right side was all cold, and so was my right hand, and the whole right side of my chest. I couldn't move them. I gasped.

“Oh god.” I was staring at my right hand, the fingers turning blue. My eyes met Bertolt's. “Help me, dress me up, now!”

“What's going on?” Bertolt's voice reached the squeaky-panicked level. He ran to my room and brought my shirt and skirt. In the meantime, my wrist started fading, and the tips of my fingers were darkening to black.

“Get into your clothes, and run for Hange,” I yelped and stumbled onto the floor. The cold was unbearable. Before he picked his clothes, Bertolt helped me up to my bed. He only pulled up his underwear, shirt and trousers, and ran out, still buttoning up while he was sprinting downstairs.

I rolled on the bed, clutching my left hand above my right elbow, clenching my teeth, whimpering. I was scared to the bone of what would happen when it reached my chest. And I knew it would. I felt the side of my face being injected by freezing needles and I screamed. I watched as my fingers take a different colour and suddenly there was blood everywhere, all over me, the bed, the floor. My flesh was dissolving, like it would in a titan's belly. I didn't even hear myself screaming any more. Bertolt ran back into my room, with Hange, Levi, Erwin, Mike, and some people from the infirmary staff. Everyone went pale.

“Oh god, I did this. Did I? I did this!” Bertolt squealed, covering his face. A number of gazes turned to him. Some then followed to the boots and socks left on the floor.

“You didn't, you idiot!” I shouted, feeling blood dripping from my mouth. “You, Hange – stay! Everyone else...” I paused to catch my breath, but Levi understood.

“The fuck out,” he growled, and the room was left less crowded.

“Ooh god,” I cried, shaking. “Oh god, oh god, _I don't want_ , I'm not, why, _I don't want this_ , no, no...” I screamed again. Most of my right arm was missing, the side of my body was deep blue, and I couldn't feel the right part of my face and neck. One more scream and I couldn't use my voice, my throat froze as well.

I didn't know if this was it for me. I could hear Bertolt sobbing, and I looked at him with blurred vision. He was kneeling next to the bed, stroking my darkening skin, all covered in blood that was gushing without end. Hange was standing behind him, for the first time ever out of words and breath and unable to move. There was nothing to be done. I was dying.

I felt it when it reached my chest and when the side of my head started melting. Then it all went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Star Wars bedtime stories. Yay for Loki's KNEEL reference.


	4. Too much to reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that everyone learns too much within one day. Bertolt learns about the actual significance of Eren's powers, and while you are convincing him to abandon the original plan to kidnap Yeager, you realise that someone has been eavesdropping on you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foul language, blood. More spoilers.

_“It's coming again!”_

_“The entrance is right over the corner!”_

_“Ikuko fell down!”_

_I looked back. Little sister was laying in the rubble, trying to stand up. I looked up in the sky full of fumes and smoke. A big plane was flying over, towards the centre of the city. It was close. I heard a crash, and my middle sister screaming. There was now a chunk of concrete the size of a car where Ikuko was getting up a second ago. I grabbed Tomoko and ran._

_“We're not going to make it!"_

_“______!"_

* * *

I opened my eyes. It felt off. I blinked. It felt wrong. I closed my eyes and opened them again after a while. I caught up. I only opened my left eye. I tried to open the other, but without success. The place was dark.

“H-m.” I tried my voice. “Hm-hmm. H-hello?”

Quiet.

“Iku-chan?”

I slowly sat up, cringing at the pain.

“Tomo-chan?”

I pondered at my own voice.

“No,” I whispered. “That was long ago. I'm older.” I lay back on the pillows, cringing again. “That was twenty years ago.”

I closed my eye.

“Iku-chan and Tomo-chan are dead,” I said to myself. “Long dead.”

I thought about how I reached the shelter alone. It was like it rained from the sky, the rubble, the ash, the fire... 

… I thought how I ran in the rain. I opened my eye again.

“Hoover?”

Quiet.

“Bertolt?” I called louder. “Anybody?!”

I heard door opening, and a dim light appeared.

“Oh thank goodness.” I heard a voice, but it wasn't Bertolt's.

“Hange?” I struggled with my own mind. “Where is Iku-chan?” I paused. “No. Where is Bertolt?”

Hange sighed with relief.

“I sent him to bed yesterday evening. And to shower first. Boy needs twice as much hygiene as the others, I swear to...”

“That's fine, thank you, Tomo-chan,” I whispered, feeling the sleep overcoming me.

* * *

_A blast of sound and light. I was blind and deaf, and paralysed. A blast of nothingness._

_A roof. Huge walls around the city. Soldiers. Titans. A freckled soldier boy looking over his shoulder at me in shock._

_“Run!”_

_The boy stands. I get up, barely able to set my foot, but I gain balance, and I sprint, and push him off the roof. An enormous hand crushes the whole site a second later. I'm carried, I'm flying, gripping to the boy for my dear life._

_I hate heights._

* * *

“How could you not tell me?!”

I opened my eyes. The world was dark grey, fading... no, it was gaining colours. It was dawn. 

“Quiet down, will you? She's sleeping.”

“Bertolt?” I called, my voice wavering.

Silence. After a moment, the door opened, but no light came in. It closed, and I heard footsteps and felt the familiar sweaty-sweet smell.

“Morning,” I mumbled. “I guess.”

“How do you feel?” Bertolt's voice was hoarse and somewhat humid.

“Like Levi trained hits on me,” I murmured. “Could you step here? I don't exactly feel like moving much, and I'd love to see you.”

Two more steps and I could see Bertolt's face above me. He sat down at the edge of the bed. His eyes were red, eyelids swollen, hair unkempt and sticking at weird angles.

“You look like shit,” I said, doing my best to keep my tongue at the right vowels. Bertolt brought up a faint smile before it smudged into a ready-to-cry expression. “That bad, huh?” I tried to smirk. “Is the upper quarter of me back yet?”

“Mostly,” he whispered. “The bones, muscles and skin are back. The hair and eye not yet.”

“Give it time,” I said. “I'll come back even if melt down to the last toe.”

“It's been fifty two days...”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Didn't know you're good at numbers.” Breathe in, breathe out. “Get in and hug me, steam punk, it's damn cold in this bed.” 

Bertolt took off his boots. He was still dressed in his sleepwear. He carefully slid under the covers next to me, and gently surrounded me with his arm. I felt a little tender peck on the top of my head.

“No sleeping pose artistry,” I mumbled, my mind was feeling heavy again. “Leave the mornings with me entangled in your legs and arms upside down for later.”

* * *

I knew that a lot had happened when I was asleep all those days. Annie was gone. In the dungeons, in a crystal, I was told. I was asked if I knew about her. I said I didn't. I was asked if I knew about other shifters around. I said I didn't. Then, obviously, they asked about what happened to me. They were sitting around my bed in the infirmary. Erwin, Levi, Hange, Pixis. I smiled just at the sight of the old man. Bertolt was standing behind the closed door. Old times came back.

“Marco Bott,” I said. “What happened to him?”

“Cadet Bott was said to have fainted in his quarters. Cadet Kirstein described how the right side of his face turned pale, and a scar formed. He woke up after a moment, remembering nothing,” said Hange. “I figured it had to have something to do with your situation. What's going on, ______-san?”

“Marco Bott died during the second battle of Trost, before Eren plugged the wall,” I said quietly. The room went completely silent. “He was pushed from the roof by an unknown cadet and grabbed by a titan, upper right quarter of his body was bitten off, then his body was thrown to the ground, against a wall, breaking window glass and wood underneath it.”

I heard footsteps behind the door, and a whispered conversation.

“I saved Marco Bott. I died. But I came back, because I can't die in here.” I paused, and chuckled the next moment, stunning everyone. “I hope that it only counts when I do it personally, or I'm going to have one hell of a ride.”

A knock on the door.

“Sir, it's urgent, squad leader Zacharius has just come back, I repeat: it's urgent!” The voice behind the door seemed on the edge of nerves.

“Commander Erwin,” I called when they were leaving, and Erwin stayed behind to let them out first. He turned to look at me, his face unreadable, but with a kind mask. “Watch your feet.”

Bertolt came in with a breakfast tray. He closed the door with his foot, walked over to my bed, sat down, and placed the tray on his lap.

“How about a little fuck under the covers first?” I asked. Bertolt blushed. “Just joking. I better get to this breakfast, they are all going to venture in here in a matter of minutes.”

“Y-you know what's it about?”

“Probably,” I uttered with my mouth filled with porridge. I swallowed and I froze. “Holy shit. He should be dead.” I paused for a second, and looked at Bertolt. “Fuck. This is bad. This is too soon.”

“Who-” Bertolt wanted to ask, but he was interrupted when the door swung open and Hange stepped in, with others behind.

“______-san, there's a breach in wall Rose!” Hange sat down, pressing their hand to the side of their face. “There are titans inside!”

“Did you-” Erwin began, but I cut him off.

“There is no breach,” I said. I put down my spoon and calmly looked at them. “The people in the village were transformed into titans. The Ape Titan is behind this.”

“Why didn't you warn us earlier?” Levi looked furious.

“I did. You even sent patrols there. What else would you want me to do?” I snapped. “Go and catch those titans, or cut them down, or whatever, just don't let them wander around. And...” I bit my lips, and glanced at Bertolt before I turned my eyes to Erwin. “Hoover, Braun, and Ymir stay. Commander, you watch your feet. Do not look for the breach, find the titans and pacify them with whatever means necessary. Absolutely avoid the Ape Titan.” I sighed. I let go of the spoon.

I watched as they were leaving. I loosened my grip on the bedsheets when the door closed. 

“Shit.”

Bertolt whispered my name. He was as pale as those bedsheets. “We... Reiner, and Ymir, a-and I... we would be... killed?”

I felt like there was a thick layer of ice surrounding my head, blurring any sounds and visions. I frowned and I closed my eyes.

“No,” I whispered just as quietly. “Ymir tried to protect the group hiding in the ruins... she almost died, but a squad led by Hange arrived and saved them all. No. Not all. Most. You were then all pulled up onto wall Rose in the morning.” I covered my eyes with one hand and took a deep breath. “Reiner and you confessed to Eren. Mikasa tried to kill you, but you transformed, badly wounded. Reiner fought Eren and in the end, you kidnapped him... and-”

Bertolt was staring into the air absently. A single bead of sweat ran down his temple.

I was listening to the noise outside, shouted orders, running, horses... emergency escapade.

“ _He is the coordinate_ ,” Bertolt said, his voice just as absent. It didn't sound like him.

“Bertolt.” I poked him in the ribs. He flinched and looked at me like he had no idea how he got into my room. Or into the reality in general.

“I need to talk to Reiner.” He stood up. I caught his sleeve.

“Bertolt." I slowly shook my head. “Don't. _Please_ , don't.” He slipped out of my grasp and stepped towards the door. “Fuck, Hoover, get back here, now! GET BACK HERE!” He paused for a second, reached for the handle, and swung the door open. “STOP IT! IT DIDN'T WORK! IT WON'T WORK!”

He left. I let out a furious howl and rolled off the bed, which was a particularly stupid idea. I couldn't stand up after almost two months of coma, never mention taking a single step. I howled even louder, and began to crawl, involuntarily pulling a blanket behind me, hissing obscenities. I reached the windowsill and propped myself up onto it like some half-dead lizard. Luckily the window was open.

“BERTOLT HOOVER, I'M GOING TO FUCKING FUCK YOU UP! GET THE FUCK BACK FUCKING HERE!”

Everyone running around the courtyard froze to gawk at me. Some then pointed their attention to Bertolt, who was standing with Reiner. I examined the surroundings. Marco Bott was standing almost below my window.

“You better catch me, Bott, because I'm taking a fucking cut,” I growled, crawled a bit further, and balanced myself out. Marco yelped and skipped forward to grasp me. He was quite different than Bertolt, not so tall and skinny, and definitely not so sweaty. “Carry me to Hoover,” I ordered. I gritted my teeth as I was watching Bertolt. He was standing like a stone statue, and he was pale and his skin was shining with sweat. His eyes were almost completely round. I beat myself in my mind to pull myself together. 

“Put me on my feet,” I barked to Marco. He seemed hesitant, but after I poked him in the ribs, he let me stand. I felt a wave of heat travel from the ground up to the top of my head. I blinked and I could stare at everyone with both eyes. Finally. I wobbled forward, one step at a time, scowling at the struggle. I felt how itchy it was to have all the hair and fingernails grow back. But there was no steam, like a shifter would emit in such situation. Soldiers were stepping aside to let me through. I paid no mind.

I stood before Bertolt and like some time ago, I felt like I was looking down at him, even though I had to tilt my head back to be able to catch his eyes. I stared around at all the cadets that were watching me intently and I waved like I wanted to get rid of a fly.

“Get back to work,” I hissed, and they resumed in an instant, only throwing curious (or scared) gazes from time to time.

I felt my forearms going very, very cold. And a thin stripe on the side of my neck. Great.

“After me,” I snarled, and hobbled behind the barracks. By the time I got there, I was missing my whole hands with a margin reaching halfway up my forearms. There was no blood – it just fell off and dissolved in a moment, leaving a clean cut. I shoved them right before Reiner's face. “See this? This is yours. Get out, Reiner.”

I could sense blood flowing down the side of my neck, seeping into my nightgown. A lot of blood. I looked at Bertolt.

“This is you,” I barely uttered, the wound was making it very difficult to speak. “And it gets worse. Much worse.”

Bertolt swallowed thickly. His hands were shaking.

“Don't do it. It's a blind road. It didn't work that way.”

“This place is going to be hell,” he said. He fell down to his knees, he hunched and covered his face with his hands.

“I've heard that before, many times,” I answered. “And the thing is, it can always get worse. And it usually does.”

“Your p-point?”

I knelt down beside him and placed my hands on his shoulders. I shrugged.

“None. It's how it is. There's no purpose in finding sense in it.”

Bertolt's eyes suddenly widened and shot up, staring behind me. I closed mine as air slowly left my lungs.

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even my own (steam)puns are ashamed of me.


	5. Nuclear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Erwin discovers that you've been hiding the identities of the Armoured and Colossal Titans, you decide to threaten him and everyone else to retain your control, and you spill a bit about your gruesome past on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based Levi's behaviour on the scenes from OVA episodes. As usual, foul language. I do that a lot, don't I? Also VERY graphic depictions of violence, namely descriptions on the effects of nuclear bombing - I mean the actual ones. I spared some of the worse details, but I'm putting some ~~~ to indicate where it starts and ends. You've been warned.

“C-commander!” Bertolt jumped to his feet and saluted. Silence followed. I took my time to get up and pat off any dust from my clothes before I pivoted to face Erwin. There was Levi, Mike, and five other soldiers behind him – and behind those, four more were holding a tied up Reiner. Bertolt shuffled, but I reached my mutilated arms and pushed him back, while I also stood with my legs wide, my arms slightly raised as if it was enough to shield Bertolt. I scowled and let my wounds heal. I was getting the hang of it.

“Hiding mass-murderers,” Erwin said in a tone usually used for discussing mild morning weather.

I snorted. Levi took a step forward, but Erwin's glance kept him in place.

“What is your purpose, ______?” inquired Erwin in the same calm manner. I shrugged. I peeked at Bertolt's appalled face and reached my hand to him. He gulped and took it, entwining our fingers.

“I saved a freckled pup, I decided help you all out some...” I shrugged again. “Unlike you, my view isn't _that_ much biased.”

“Biased?” Levi snarled. “You fuck a fucking serial killer of the century and you say you are not biased?”

“Levi-” Erwin began, but he was cut off.

“But that's easy if you don't see people fucking _die_ , huh?” Levi threw off Erwin's hand that was keeping him in place and he darted forward, stopping right in front of me. I was short, but still not as short as the corporal. “Easy for some brat that thought it would be an entertainment to pop into a fucked up story to have fun?” Levi's eyes were nearly gleaming red. “Not giving a shit about what's it like to watch others being devoured by fucking beasts?!”

I watched him indifferently.

“You done?” I asked after the pause seemed too long for Levi to think of further rants. He scowled and twitched like he was about to take a swing at me, but Erwin's call stopped him. I gave Levi a long glance before I locked my eyes with Erwin's.

~~~VERY graphic description starts here~~~

“There is nothing in your world that could possibly outrank anything that I've already seen,” I said calmly, quietly. “Nothing that would get even close to that,” I added, shifting my eyes back to Levi. “You think titans are bad? You can fight titans. You can see them. You have the ability and possibility to stop them and get them the fuck out of your territory.” My fingers that held onto Bertolt's hand twitched minimally and he gave me a reassuring squeeze. “We had devices... bombs... that could wipe out areas bigger than all your fucking walls at once, in a matter of seconds. No stopping them, no preventing them, no hiding. The ones that were the closest vaporised faster than you blink. The ones a bit further were burned alive in a blink of an eye, first the part that was facing the blast would melt away, while the other boiled before they were turned to crisp and crumble to dust that was wiped with the hit wave. The ones even further would have the parts facing the explosion scorched, melted, skin hanging down like rags. They didn't look human, they were like nightmares. They couldn't scream, they only wandered around, making that quiet murmur that pierced through your ears and I can still hear it, I can still feel that disgusting stench.”

Soldiers and officers had different shades of white, grey, and green upon their faces.

“Even after the fires were put out, all it took to die was to take a short stroll around the area. The... remnants... it would kill you within days, dissolve your tissues like it was digesting itself. Days of unimaginable agony,” I murmured. “The ones that would care for those poisoned ones, they would also get sick,” I snarled. “What you are doing here is child's play compared to what a war is... was... there.”

~~~END of description~~~

I was inertly watching Erwin's expression. It was shocked, but not as much as Levi's, nor the other soldiers'.

“There were thousands of your people dying here, dozens of thousands, hundreds of thousands,” I added. “There were millions of my people dying, billions, and not within centuries. After twenty years of poking each other in the ribs, it took ten days to wipe the whole world out.”

I enjoyed the silence that fell around. Even the noise of the courtyard decreased.

“What is my purpose?” I mimicked Erwin's question. The shock was gone from his face, well hidden under his polished mask. Levi had a bit of a problem with hiding it yet. I looked into Levi's eyes as I said, “I popped up here because I _don't_ like watching people die.” I shielded Bertolt with my body, clenching onto his hand. “And you ain't going to kill more people here. I won't permit that. You may do your child's shit bickering after this whole fuck war is over.”

Levi backed off.

“Let Braun loose,” I mumbled. “You have work to do.” I leaned my back on Bertolt, and he secretly held me up standing. I was tired. I sighed. “And really, don't try to piss me off. I got the hang of manipulating this story. I'm going to mess it up if you piss me off, even despite what I've just said.” I locked my eyes with Erwin's. He nodded, and Reiner's limbs were unbound. He removed the gag from his mouth and gulped.

“Go to your quarters or whatever, Reiner.” I waved him off. Erwin ordered the soldiers to go back to work.

“I don't think you are going to run away,” he said, composed and still. “But I'm leaving Levi here.”

“His ankle is still bad anyway.” I shrugged. “You need to save him for later.” Levi glared at me, pivoted, and left. “He's going to get better. He'll just hate me more than before, that's all.”

“______-san.” Erwin straightened up, nodded, and followed Levi.

I took a deep breath and shifted my weight on Bertolt completely. He lowered to sit down on his heels and pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my back on his chest and closed my eyes.

“What a fucking shit bother,” I mumbled. “Go and try to help a bunch of fucking morons, and this is what you get in exchange.”

“Do you want me to carry you back to the infirmary?” Bertolt asked quietly, his hands gently trailing up and down.

“No.” I sighed. “Let's wait here until I pull my shit together, I need to walk on my own. I can't show them I'm exhausted, not after I looked all fine and back in the business.”

He nodded and rested his chin on the top of my head.

“Besides, I'm not going back to infirmary, for the same reason. We'll go to my quarter.” I muffled a yawn. “Fifty fucking days of coma and I'm still sleepy.”

“You didn't look well rested,” Bertolt said. I could feel his his voice resonating deeply in his chest. “More like you had nightmares.”

“Some,” I admitted plainly.

“I'm sorry.”

“Me too.”

It went quiet again.

“Umm, you guys...?” I looked up to see Marco glancing at us awkwardly. His cheeks were slightly pink and his eyes were darting to the side. “Corporal Levi asked you to get back to the quarters.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I'll get back there eventually. Go and take care of yourself, Bott.”

“S-sure, will do!” Marco grinned nervously and skipped away.

“Are we going?” Bertolt asked, stirring slightly.

“Not yet.” I shrugged. I placed my palms on his forearms and trailed my fingers over the slightly damp fabric of his shirt. “I need your help,” I whispered. “There's nothing more that I can tell them." My voice was so low that it could be almost mistaken for a ragged breath. Bertolt shivered.

“I...” he started, but it seemed like he didn't know how to form his answer. I sighed again.

“Come on, we'll talk in my room.” I untangled his arms and groaned before I stood up. I felt like a 90-years-old grandmother. I hardened my will and straightened up, back stiff, chin up, lips tight, eyes stern and cold. “Let's go, Hoover.”

Courtyard was nearly still now, soldiers waiting, clenching fists, eyes down on manes of their horses or locked onto the back of Erwin's head. Hange was turned to face him, probably listening. They then looked back and found me and Bertolt, who was restraining his steps to match my pace. Light was reflecting on Hange's glasses, making it difficult to guess their expression. I slowly shook my head. They nodded and turned back to watch the road before them.

“What a fuck up,” I mumbled, finally reaching the front door. Cold sweat broke all over my body and my knees felt like jelly. Bertolt closed behind us and I intently scanned the hall; when I determined that it was empty, I stumbled back to rest against the rough wall, taking in deep, shaky breaths. He carefully grasped my shoulders to keep me standing.

“Anyone here? Commander called!” I yelled. There was no answer. I let out a content sigh through my nose. “All right. Carry me, Hoover. I'm tired.”

Bertolt gently picked me up, placing one arm under my knees and the other under my back. I closed my eyes and nuzzled his chest, wrapped one arm around his neck, rested the other on my stomach.

“What a fuck up,” I murmured again.


	6. Tempting and unlikely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strip of information from Bertolt initially seems to be reassuring when you consider his attitude towards you, but that cracks slightly when your mind comes to a sad conclusion. But... is it really a situation without hope?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has lemon. Has nasty language. Also contains my made up wild theories. And some Reiner.

I was staring at the ceiling. Bertolt was lying next to me, his right arm under my head, his left on his stomach, legs straight and crossed at his ankles. He was staring at the ceiling, too.

“So that's how it is,” I said after a long while, slowly digesting the conversation we had after he brought me to my quarter, filling up the gaps I hadn't had any chances to know before. “Anna, Hilde, Erna, Donna, Martha, Viola, Maria, Rose, Sina. Nine Walls. That's... an interesting turn.” I frowned. My head was still dizzy. “That must be... hundreds of thousands of the Wall Titans inside... If not millions.”

“A lot,” Bertolt said. “But it's not about that.”

“You still haven't told me anything besides this and that the fucking monkey is one of them squints that conceived this whole titan fuck up,” I remarked. “So what exactly is it about?”

“I...” Bertolt stirred. He was tense. I let out something between a hiccup and a snort.

“You don't trust me, do you?” I murmured.

“No, I-”

“It wasn't a question.” I half-closed my eyes, absent-mindedly looking at our feet. “I expected that. Who would trust _me_ , anyway? Claiming to be from god-knows-where, knowing fuck-knows-what, able to do hell-knows-how-much. My personality doesn't exactly brighten the picture.”

“I... I'm not used to... trusting... people,” Bertolt uttered, frowning and squeezing his eyelids shut. After a brief moment, his face relaxed, but it took on a saddened expression that only magnified when he opened his eyes and locked them with mine. “I even started trusting _Reiner_ less to begin with. There's something wrong with him.”

“He's shifting,” I said.

“Well, yeah, he is one, but-”

“I don't mean titan shifting,” I cut him off. “He is two different people. That's how he copes.” I broke the eye contact with Bertolt and glanced to the side. “He can't take it, so his mind tells him that he's not the person who did all this shit. He completely believes that, most of the time. He doesn't even realise then that his identity could possibly be something else.” I took a long breath before I added, “I can quite understand him.”

Bertolt remained still. I turned my head to look at him again.

“Can we talk about our trust issues while I'm eating?” I asked indifferently. “I haven't eaten a full meal for like two months.”

“Oh, sorry!” Bertolt shot up, forgetting that one of his arms was under my head, which caused me to nearly roll off the bed, hitting my hand on the edge of the night stand when I sought to catch balance. I scowled. “Aaargh, I'm so sorry!” He clenched his jaw, gliding his long fingers over the upside of my palm.

“Well, you can make up for that after I eat.” I smirked. Bertolt's cheeks and ears turned red. “If you see Ymir on your way, tell her I need to see her later.”

“Later when?” he asked. “She'll want to know.”

“Oh, I don't know,” I said, my smirk brightening. “What do you think, how long?”

Bertolt coughed like he was choking, now his whole face was aflame.

“How cute,” I cooed. “Do you always reset like that every fifty days?”

“I-I'll go get food,” he whimpered.

I sighed after he left. _Eh_ , I thought, _I should give him a break. My 21-years-old self would be terrified by what eight years would do to her. Where did all that innocence go?_ I scratched my head. _Well, I have a suspicion which way it exited._ I giggled. _That timing makes me wonder, though. Why did it take weeks for saving Marco to get back at me, but then Bertolt's and Reiner's wounds appeared right away after I had made my decision? And why hadn't Ymir's wounds hit me prior to that? What is it waiting for?_ I turned onto my side to absent-mindedly stare at the wardrobe before me, my eyes tracing the cracks and scratches on the faded wood. _If I hadn't got Ymir's wounds before Bertolt's, that would mean... would that mean she is going to be... injured anyway? Despite what I had said?_ I frowned. _But how? How can she get injured the exact same way in completely different circumstances?_

Bertolt returned with a new bowl of porridge. And an apple. I raised my eyebrows.

“I... I thought some fruit wouldn't be bad in your state,” he suggested shyly. I was about to say something appropriate for my smart-ass personality, but I remembered what I had decided just a moment before.

“I guess, although I'm not much of a fan of apples,” I replied with a crooked smile. I slowly propped myself up, resting my back at the bed's headboard. 

“Really?” Bertolt sat down next to me and handed me the bowl. “I love apples.” He dropped his gaze. “Which you knew anyway.”

“No, I didn't,” I said, gazing at him with a shade of surprise in my smile. Then I snickered. “Oh dear,” I mumbled to myself, remembering one particular manga I used to read a long time ago. I swallowed a spoonful of porridge. It wasn't cold, but far from a satisfying steaming state. I cringed slightly. “Have you found Ymir?”

“No.” He shook his head. “But I told Reiner in case he sees her.”

“Good.” I finished eating and Bertolt took the bowl to place it on the table. He made a move to give me the apple. “That's for later,” I announced, reaching out my hand to him. “Come here. I'm cold.”

We lay down under a blanket and I snuggled my back to Bertolt's chest. He wrapped his arm around me.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly. I scowled.

“Honestly,” I murmured, “if I were you, I wouldn't trust me either. But I would want to. Don't you? You must be so tired, having no one to believe in. I spent most of my life that way and it's fucking exhausting. _I'm_ fucking exhausted.”

“So... you don't trust me either?” Bertolt asked. His voice shuddered, almost broke.

“I believe that I can predict your behaviour, based on what I know, and I can adjust myself and my doings accordingly,” I answered slowly. “But that is not what trust is about, is it now... I can say the same about a lot of other people.”

Bertolt's hand on my chest curled into a loose fist. I snaked my fingers into it to entwine them with his.

“But, to be fair,” I continued, “I can admit that if I were to picture someone when using that word, trust, you are currently the first person that would come to my mind.” I closed my eyes. _This is disgusting,_ I thought. _Lies. Such lies. Maybe I could somewhat trust Marco, he's not really capable of twisting around, and he owes me, but the others... All of them..._

“Thank you.” Bertolt visibly relaxed, stroking my palm with his thumb. He gingerly nuzzled my hair. I could feel his heart beating at a maddening pace and I sighed. _How I wish._

A knock on the door. Bertolt stirred and immediately sat up, his cheeks burning red. I didn't move, rolling my eyes with annoyance.

“Come in.”

As I expected, it was Reiner. He grinned at us.

“Sorry for interrupting.” He stepped in, but didn't close the door behind him. “Anyway, I'm only here to tell you that Ymir's not on the base. Corporal Levi said she was commanded to go with the rest for the expedition.”

I cursed under my nose in my mother tongue. _Son of a bitch._

“Thanks, good to know.” I sent him a crooked smile.

“Say, _______...” Bertolt nudged my back in a way that Reiner couldn't notice. “What do you think about Reiner?”

“What's with you, Bertl, such question all of a sudden?” Reiner cackled. “I'm not really into triangles.”

I turned to look at Bertolt and gave him a slow blink. _You want to hear from me how bad it is,_ I thought, _his condition. But I'm not a fucking psychiatrist._ I scowled internally. _It's rather me who needs one._

“Oi, Reiner, I'd rather fuck the Armoured Titan.” I raised my eyebrows. Reiner's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but his smirk returned right after.

“You're almost making me jealous. It's kinda gross, though.”

I snorted.

“Yeah, well, I still would rather fuck that than you.” I gave him an amused expression.

“What can I do, can't compete with something that's almost ten times my size.” Reiner dramatically raised his arms. “I'll leave you guys to your business. Catch you later.” He left, closing the door behind him.

“I'll leave the opinion to you,” I said, turning onto my back. “I'm not an expert on those things anyway. But it's bad. I think it's bad. Very bad.”

Bertolt sighed. He lay down and cuddled me.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated what I felt was like the 10th time that day. He buried his face in my hair. I turned around to face him, pushed him onto his back, I climbed on top and wrapped my arms and legs around him. I rested my head on his chest; his heartbeat was just as crazy as a moment ago, before Reiner's visit. Ah... “A-are you feeling better?” he asked hesitantly. I smirked.

“I don't know, do you have anything in particular on your mind?”

“Uh...” He gulped. The blush that had already managed to disappear while we talked with Reiner started warming up his face again. I reached down to slide my hand under his shirt and glided my palm over his abdomen, relishing in how delightful his muscles felt beneath my fingers. I traced the path of soft black curls that lead from his navel down to his pants, and then back up again, to his chest. I spread my fingers above his heart and dug in my fingernails. Bertolt shuddered.

“Y-yes, I do,” he strained his voice. _Look at you,_ I thought, _so decisive. I'm proud. Perhaps it was a good idea to give him a bit of a break from my smart-ass comments._ I felt a slight nudge at my inner thigh. _Definitely decisive,_ I snickered in my mind. I upped myself on my arms and leaned down to his face to nibble at his lower lip.

“I do not follow,” I said huskily, moving my left hand to unbutton his shirt. “Do elaborate.” Bertolt let out a shuddering sigh. He captured my lips in a gentle kiss while he slid his hands to help me with removing his shirt. He sat up to pull it off and drop it on the floor before he reached to the buttons of my own blouse. I slapped his fingers off and smirked at his confused look.

“You don't get to undress me,” I said. I moved onto the bed beside him, freeing him from my weight. “Get up. Strip.” He obliged, of course. I sat with my legs crossed, my chin supported on my fist, and I drank in the view; the way his muscles moved and shined with sweat in the pale September light seeping through the window, how his long arms glided through the air when he reached to take off his boots. For a brief moment I wondered why his skin still had the marks left by the 3DMG straps. It made no sense, considering his extraordinary regenerating skills. The thought quickly melted away when he stood before me only in his underwear, his slender form towering over everything in the room. I bit my lips. Bertolt's blush reached a furious intensity, he moved his arms limply in front of him and grasped his elbow with the other hand.

“You haven't finished,” I pointed out, on purpose staring at his pants that looked quite too tight at the moment. Bertolt swallowed thickly. He crept up his shaking hands to the band of his boxers and pulled them down enough to let them slide to the floor on their own; he then stepped forward, leaving his underwear behind. I tilted my head to the side, devouring his image, the hills and valleys of his trained muscles, the dark curls of hair over his crotch, the delicious pronounced juncture of his hips and thighs, his bold erection, the flustered look on his face, half-lidded, gorgeous eyes and soft lips that were slightly parted, dark brown hair falling over his forehead. I reached out my hand and he grasped it gently, bending forward, leaning his knee on the bed. I pulled him closer to capture his lips, to press the back of his head to me. I let go of his hand and pulled him by his shoulder, taking away his balance and making him fall forward until his reflex kicked in, almost right away, and he supported himself on his left arm, hovering over me.

“Can I... can I undress you now?” he asked pleadingly, lifting his head down do give my earlobe a swift lick. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head up.

“Nuh-uh, you'll have to do better than that,” I hissed before I let go of his hair. Bertolt gulped and leaned to brush his lips over the side of my neck.

“Please...” he whispered against my skin between placing long, soft kisses. “Please, let me...” He sucked on the tender skin right under my jaw and bit down into it before he kissed it in an apology, making me shiver. “Please, let me take off your clothes...”

“That's much better...” I sighed. “You may take off my skirt.”

“Thank you,” Bertolt hummed in gratitude and glided his fingers down to untie the sash, keeping each move careful, almost worshipping. He folded the skirt before he placed it on the floor. He then sat on his heels between my legs, stroking my thighs tenderly; he brought up my right leg to rest my heel on his shoulder and he bit my calf, paying attention not to sink his teeth too deep. I closed my eyes and turned my head to the side. Encouraged, Bertolt began kissing a trail up my leg, lowering himself in the process until he reached my upper thigh, right below the frilled border of my underwear. I sucked in a deep breath when he grazed his fingers over my lower regions on his way under my shirt, to my stomach and further to my breasts.

“Shirt,” I muttered, diving my fingers into his hair. Bertolt leaned down and slid his nose in a path from the upper band of my pants to my navel, his tongue following right after. I let out a relaxed hum and approvingly stroked his hair while he undid one button after another, starting at the bottom.

I let it on, allowing Bertolt only to move the cloth aside to reveal my chest and stomach. He darted down to suck and nibble at my breasts, massaging and stroking them at the same time, eliciting quiet moans from me. One of his hands travelled south and I arched my back when he began rubbing his fingers at my nether lips through the thin fabric of my underwear.

“Take them off,” I panted, pulling at his hair and he immediately obliged, sitting on his heels again. He bent my legs up and rolled my pants up to my ankles, slid them off and threw somewhere on the floor. I gasped for air when he hid his face between my thighs and I felt his lips touching my crotch. He dipped his middle finger between my folds and pulled it out, watching intently a line of wetness that still linked it to me. He gazed into my eyes thoughtfully and he put that finger in his mouth to taste. _Holy fuck... holy fuck,_ I thought, my mind struggling to produce anything more coherent, _holy fuck._ I let out an obscene moan when he lowered his head and licked in the same place that he earlier touched with his finger. He dug fingers of his left hand into my thigh and he sucked at my clitoris until I curled my toes and threw my head back; he thrust his right index finger into me and I clenched my teeth on my fist to muffle a cry. He added one more finger and I was a moaning mess, heaving and bucking my hips to his touch, chasing the heat accumulating in my belly.

“Right there, ha-aaah, yes, yes-” I panted, hopelessly trying not to clamp my thighs on his head when he added his third finger and he bent them, hitting the correct spot. I squeezed my lips shut to keep another cry from spilling out, but when he pulled out his fingers and thrust them back one more time, he tripped me over the edge.

“Oh god, Bertooolt!” I groaned loudly, shaking in spasms as he lapped his tongue and pumped his fingers through my climax.

Finally, I dropped my head onto the bed and let down my weakened legs. Bertolt crawled to lay next to me and wrapped his arms around me in a gentle hug while I calmed my breath. It didn't take long before I tilted my head up to bite his lower lip, and I hooked my leg over his hip to rub my mound against his erected member. Bertolt moaned into the kiss and tightened the hug, turning onto his back and flipping me on top of him. I rolled my hips and bowed to capture his lips in a sloppy kiss. He cupped my face in his hands and hummed, leaving feather kisses along the line of my mouth. I reached between my thighs to wrap my fingers around his member and directed it into me, watching Bertolt's face. His eyes went glassy, eyebrows tightened in a nearly painful frown, his mouth opened in a silent moan, his cheeks covered in dusty pink. I dug my fingernails into the skin on his chest and raked them down, leaving red scratches that quickly steamed away. Bertolt gasped, but I rocked my hips back and forth and he most likely forgot about everything except the current moment.

Bertolt moaned my name and sat up, rolling his own hips to meet my rhythm. He cupped my cheeks and smashed his lips to mine. I closed my eyes and kissed back, sneaking my hands to the back of his head to run my fingers through his hair. I arched my back when I felt a wave of heat coming down to between my thighs – I was already sensitive after Bertolt's earlier doings and it only added to my state. I threw my head up, shutting my eyes tight, clawing at Bertolt's back.

“Bertolt, I-”

“Y-yes,” he panted, “yes, plea... please, yes-” He turned us over, laid me on my back, dug his fingers into my hips and pushed into me repeatedly, slowly and deeply. I closed my eyes again. A drop of sweat fell from his face onto mine.

“Oh Walls,” he groaned. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to the crook of my neck and sped up to reach his limits. I let go and whimpered, spasms shooting through my body as I clenched around his member. Bertolt buried his face in my shoulder and moaned quietly, shaking, giving out his last deep thrusts.

I opened my eyes. Everything still felt like swinging, even though the only movements we made now were the raises and falls of our chests while we settled our breathing. Bertolt rolled off me onto the bed and pulled me close, he hid his face between my breasts. My mind was dimmed by the exhaustion, but it took me just a second to notice that there wasn't anything erotic in that action.

“Bertolt,” I whispered, bringing my hand to stroke his hair. He gulped and pressed me closer. “Look at me.” He shook his head once.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered. “I just... don't know how,” his muffled voice broke and ended in a soft sob. I bent my neck to kiss the top of his head.

“You can't rush things like that,” I said calmly. I smiled weakly. “That goes for both of us.”

He stirred and turned his face to look at me. His eyelids were puffy, eyes reddened and spilling tears. I wondered if that drop that I took for sweat a moment earlier was actually the first tear.

“I'm so tired,” I continued. “I really need someone I can trust. You know, you remind me of myself sometimes.” I sighed. “But I never was brave enough to let anything out.”

“That can't be good,” he mumbled, reaching his hand to caress my cheek.

“You are quite right about that.” I scowled, breaking the eye contact. I snorted. “It's not going to be pretty. That day.” _Could I actually do that,_ I pondered, _could I allow myself to trust him? Tempting. And unlikely. But tempting._ One side of me hinted that I'd do that eventually; the other just laughed at it, pointing at my experience so far. _Unlikely, but tempting._

_Tempting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy that DeathNote reference. I haven't realised that when I first planned for Bertl to like apples. Then it sort of happened.
> 
> Next chapter: a storm is coming. Dun dun DUUUN.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, I'd really love to hear anything from you! It's kinda awkward to post these without knowing.


	7. Marco Bott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The goal was to handle the unexpected appearance of titans inside Wall Maria. It was a success. The number of the wounded and the dead is smaller than usual. But...

I was bored. Who would have thought I could miss being interrogated and pulled around to participate in experiments and whatnot? With less than a fifth of the whole Corps left at the base, the place seemed desolated. There was Bertolt, and there was Reiner. We sat together and were bored together. And then there was Levi. Often in the background. Watching. Judging.

 _Erwin told him not to miss anything,_ I thought. _I don't think that was even necessary, Levi would do that either way. Erwin wants to see how much I can do. I have no idea myself, so it would be not a bad idea to use his clever plan for my own advantage. But I need to be careful._ I moved the queen, effectively striking down Reiner's robin. Chess bored me. I wasn't good at it. But Bertolt was helping me, so I wasn't set on defeat by default. _Erwin can probably outsmart me with not much problem._ Reiner groaned and Bertolt gave me a small smile. _He's going to test me... he must have prepared something already. I need to be on my watch._ Reiner murdered one of my pawns. _And Ymir... what's going on with Ymir..._

I sighed.

“I need to drop by my quarter, you're losing anyway, Reiner.” I smiled slyly.

“Only because Bertl is helping you.” Reiner scowled amusingly. “I'd beat the crap outta you otherwise.”

“Not interested in that!” I threw a raspberry at him and got up. My right arm was growing cold. I was correct. Bertolt got up as well and tailed me on my way up to the first floor.

“Your hand...” he said with a strained voice.

“Yeah, Erwin's hand.” I looked over my shoulder at him and gave him a crooked smile.

* * *

I sat naked in my shower, watching indifferently as the flesh of my right arm dissolved, gushing gore that flowed to the drain with water that poured down on me. Bertolt sat on the tiles close by, his back leaning on the door, his arms hugging his knees. He tilted his head back to rest it against the door as well, closed his eyes, and sighed.

“Does it hurt?” he whispered.

“It's cold,” I said. “It's not quite like hurt. Cold.”

“I'm sorry.”

I turned my head to stare at him. He seemed to have felt it as he opened his eyes and gazed at me back. A blush covered his cheeks and he shifted uncomfortably. I checked on my arm.

“I guess that's it,” I muttered, but then I frowned. “It's interesting.”

“The... arm?”

“No... this. This is interesting,” I said, pointing my eyes towards my feet. It was a clean cut; two little toes and a thin triangular piece of my left foot was missing before the wound closed up and they started growing back. “I don't recall this.”

The shower was clean again. No one could have guessed how much blood had been there just a couple of minutes earlier.

* * *

Three days. It took three days for them to return. With three carts. Two were filled with the wounded. One was filled with the dead. _Not bad,_ I thought. _That's way less than usual. I wonder whom I sent to die... does Erwin wonder about that, too? He surely does. I wonder how he copes._

“Where is she?!”

“Jean!”

“Where is that _bitch_?!”

Bertolt was standing three feet behind me, but I could feel how he tensed. I watched Kirstein squirm around, throwing wild stares in random directions. Then, he saw me.

“YOU!”

_Oh-ho. Kuso._

He was held up by Connie and Sasha, all of them looking at me with anger – or, I should've said, the two latter were. Kirstein was about to explode at the sight of me. The expression on my face dropped when the situation hit me. My eyes slowly crept to the cart stacked with bodies.

“IT'S YOUR FAULT! YOU BITCH!”

“Oi, you.” Levi consistently refused to call me by my name, and he despised of me too much to call me vile names either. “Erwin's office.”

I glanced once more at the cadets and turned around to follow him into the building.

* * *

They were sitting at the table. Erwin (arms intact), Hange, Moblit, Mike (quite alive), and four other squad leaders. Levi walked over to sit at Erwin's right side. Erwin sat on the short side of the table, and was the only person sitting there. I sat on the other short side, in front of him. They were looking at me, eighteen eyes pointed at me, making me feel like there were torches flashing at me with very bright light. It was uncomfortable. _Exactly how Erwin wanted,_ I thought. Bertolt, as it was a custom now, stayed behind the closed door, which made me quite alone here. _Another thing Erwin wanted._

We sat in silence. _Go on, Erwin. I'm not speaking first. You want me to ask you a question._

_Good luck with that._

“_______-san,” Erwin spoke. Finally. “The titans were eradicated, and we captured three specimens. If it wasn't for your warning, things would be much worse by now.”

 _Of course they would be,_ I snarled in my thoughts. _And we all know it here. You only have no idea how much worse it would be._

“You have our thanks.” Erwin nodded his head once, and so did the rest. Barely. Coldly. _I wonder who was on the third cart. How many friends?_ Erwin entwined his fingers and placed his hands on the table in front of him. “And so with my sincere condolences I must inform you that among the nine soldiers that fell in battle, there was a person who, I dare say, was of importance to you.” My hands, unlike Erwin's, were under the table. I knew what he was going to say next. I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my skin. “Marco Bott.”

I nodded. Once.

“Another matter I should thank you for was the warning to watch my feet.” Erwin sent me a small smile. “I suspect I'd have to give up much more than two toes otherwise... would you mind telling me, how much exactly?”

 _Liar,_ I thought. _You went straight for it so far that you sliced off your toes?_

“Nearly whole left foot,” I lied calmly. _Let him think he guessed which foot to choose correctly._ “Have you sighted the Ape Titan?”

“No. We put extra watch on the parts of the Wall you pointed, but it was nowhere in proximity. Also..." he trailed off for a moment, "I must apologise for taking Ymir with us, although it was not prompted by my decision; she followed without my knowledge.”

 _Liar again,_ I thought, nodding to accept the apology.

“Now, if you could excuse us... we have matters to discuss that I doubt would interest you.”

I stood up and offered a shallow bow before I left. I closed the door and allowed myself to loosen the corset I tied around my nerves. I felt my hands shaking; I glanced down and saw that my fingers were stained with blood. I really must have dug my nails in.

“_______?” Bertolt whispered. My breathing accelerated.

“Take me to the bodies.”

* * *

My breath came out in a form of a little pale cloud. Nine of them. I didn't know the first eight. I knew the ninth. Marco was laying at the end of the row in the cold basement. His face was stained with blood, most of it came out of his nose and mouth. He was missing an arm and leg, and his stomach was a mess.

_Ymir's wounds._

Cadets from the 104th trainee squad were standing around, their eyes locked onto Marco's body as well. I turned my eyes around. Only Mikasa and Eren were missing. And, of course, Reiner.

“Armin... what happened to your arm?” I asked. His forearm was bandaged up, and he held his arm on a sling.

“Titan. But it only bit into the skin, the arm's intact,” he said absent-mindedly. _Reiner's wound._

It was like this strip of conversation woke everyone up. Sasha started crying. Jean stirred and stared at me. _Here it comes._

“It's your fault,” he said quietly. “It's your fucking fault he's dead. How could you allow him to go if you knew?! He's dead now!” He approached me in three big steps and I reached my hand back to stop Bertolt from interrupting. “How could you?! Do you have a heart at all?!”

They were all watching us. So many eyes on me. So uncomfortable.

“No... what am I saying...” Jean snarled. “You are on _his_ side.” He looked at Bertolt. “You fuck Ber... this... this mass-murderer. People like _that_ have no hearts.”

Bertolt was shaking, I could hear the quiet clatter of the buckles on his 3DMG.

They were all watching us. Judging. Angry. _Stop. Please, stop. Please._

“Just explain one thing to me,” Jean said, coming so close that I could smell him. Sweat, blood, horse, more blood. “Why did you save him in Trost?” I had to tilt my head up to look at him. “What kind of person, heartless or not, plays like that?”

“Get out,” I whispered. “Everyone. Get out.” They stirred, but did nothing. “Leave us. Get out.”

Once they understood that I meant Jean and me, they slowly marched towards the stairs.

“You too, Hoover.”

I could sense it hurt him and I felt a scratch under my ribs. _Had I really complained about being bored two days ago? Why would I complain about having a calm day without any shit like this?_

“Do you really think I have no heart?” I asked, not raising my voice, watching Marco. I passed around Jean and stood at Marco's side, my back slightly hunched. _I'm so tired._ “Did you know I came to this world to save Marco in the first place? It was the first thing I wanted to do. First thing I did here. You know what happened to me because of it. I was in coma for two months.” I took a glance at Jean. He didn't move from his place, his back was still facing me. Tight fists at his sides, head bowed forward. _He's fighting not to cry._ “I'd never wish death upon him. Not upon anyone.”

“Were you in love with him?” Jean turned around to gaze at Marco's body.

“Marco? No. I love the person he was. So much light and... and sweet, and good, and joy, like he was made of fucking rainbows and sugar.”

_I wish you were alive, Marco. So much. You didn't deserve to end up in such a fucked up story._

“Jean... I did things that no amount of good deeds will ever make up for. I used to feel that I had a Marco part in myself. I don't know if that's true, but even if it was, it was petty and little compared to the original.” I finally locked my eyes with Jean. “If I could switch this place with Marco, I would do it.”

A single tear ran down his cheek. He gulped.

I felt dizzy. I coughed.

“_______-san...?”

I coughed again and a wave of blood escaped my lips, straight onto Marco's shirt. I fell to my knees and clutched my hands to my stomach, but one of my hands grew cold, and so did one of my legs. I rolled onto the floor, onto my side, and vomited more blood. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut.

“________?!”

Quick, heavy footsteps sounded down the stairs. Bertolt plunged into the dungeon, bewildered and appalled. He yelped when he saw me and sprinted over.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!” he screamed at the top of his lungs at Jean. He knelt by my side and brought up my head onto his lap. His hands were shaking. “WHAT DID YOU DO?! ALL SHE'S DOING IS HELPING YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!”

“Oi, Hoover, hush,” I uttered. “It's just me.” Bertolt shut up and gazed down at me, tears streaming down his face, so much unlike Jean's one little drop. “It's just... fucking... moron... me.” I sniffed, the blood flowing out of my nose was irritating me. “He didn't... hurt me.”

_Well, he did. Just not like that._

_I hope they'll look at Bertolt differently now. Poor Bertolt._

Silence fell. The only sounds were Bertolt's sobs, until...

Marco gasped. He was breathing.

“Marco?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polo!
> 
> \-----
> 
> I'd *really* appreciate comments! I've never even had one in here and it's so awkward to post things like that. Thank you for sticking with me! <3


	8. There are no strings on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertolt stands before the other cadets from the 104th squad - along with their questions and accusations.  
> And... why is it exactly that you keep on saving Marco?

“J-Jean?”

The next moment Jean was kneeling by Marco's side, hugging him and peppering his face with kisses, now crying openly. Marco groaned.

“What... did I... drink?” he uttered, struggling to get his voice through. “I have... a hangover... that is worse... than anything I could... imagine.”

I was watching them with hazy eyes. My stomach hurt. My arm and leg were slowly taking their forms back, much slower than I remember the previous time. I turned my gaze to Bertolt, who was still weeping quietly, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me. _Oh boy,_ I thought. _That is a lot of care. He's falling for me. Maybe he doesn't trust me, but fucking damn he is. Shoulda expected that._ I decided to ignore the part of my mind that was pointing out that I had been deliberately heading that way for weeks. I closed my eyes and for a brief while, I succumbed into the comfort of having my cheek stroked up and down with the topside of Bertolt's fingers. A smile crept onto my face and a ball of laughter started boiling up deep in my chest. It bubbled up my throat and came out in compulsive, hysterical spasms, at nearly screeching level.

“I resurrected fucking Freckled Jesus,” I howled, shaking. 

I opened my eyes. Jean, Marco, and Bertolt were all staring at me in shock. I noticed that the rest of cadets returned to the dungeon; they were staring at me with bewilderment as well.

“I do not understand that reference,” Bertolt murmured and I snorted.

“I'm just exhausted,” I mumbled. “Never mind me.”

“I...” Jean gulped. “I'm... sorry for what I've said. About you. I'm sorry.” He dropped his gaze and bit his lips. “I didn't know.”

The rest was watching me with utter confusion.

“I need a shower,” I muttered, cringing at the unpleasant feeling of blood-sticky clothes clinging to my skin.

“You... saved Marco?” Armin asked in disbelief. “How? We've... we've just seen him, all...” He made a vague gesture, not wanting to break the facts to Marco.

“You didn't see that coming?” I snickered. I glanced at Marco again, at the thin scar that marked the what-if from Trost. I frowned.

 _Fucking shit. Erwin's arm,_ I thought. _He knows what happened to Marco. He knows about the scar. He most likely has a scar on his arm by now. He knows. I forgot about it because neither Bertolt nor Reiner had scars... I guess because of their shifter healing stuff. Fuck._

“Can you bring the rest back?” Armin inquired.

“Are you insane?” Bertolt snarled. The rest glared at him coldly. “Are you fucking blind?! Look at her! She can barely speak, and some of them miss a half of their bodies, or their heads!”

 _I think he's jealous. It's the second time I saved Marco and he knows it._ I sighed. _I guess I'll have to explain... wait, what? I don't have to explain anything, what the fuck am I thinking about?_

“As much as I hate to agree with... him,” Jean remarked, “He's right. I don't think she can handle that much.”

In different circumstances, I'd kick Jean between his legs. But these weren't those circumstances. I decided to cut myself out of the conversation and pretended I lost consciousness. _Go on, now you can talk shit about me._

“_______?” Bertolt whispered. His fingers twitched and he stopped stroking my cheek. “_______, can you hear me?” He asked a bit louder. “_______?!”

Footsteps. Someone knelt beside me.

“She's breathing.” It was Armin. “She just fainted, I suspect.”

A moment of silence.

“B... Bertolt...” Armin shifted, his clothes made a shuffling sound. “Why?”

_Oh. It seems the rest of the 104th haven't talked to him since they learned who he is. I did not know that. This is going to get bad._

“What did you feel when you knocked out... the gate?”

Bertolt gulped and the fingers on my cheek shook significantly. His hand started getting rather clammy.

“I've got a better question,” Connie growled from the other side of the dungeon. “What the hell did you think when you broke the one at Trost?” Bertolt was all shaking now. “Was this all a lie? All those years we spent together, all those weeks of horrible training, was this just a game for you?”

_Ah. I remember that part. This is not go-_

“It was amazing how horrible you looked in your sleep, all those poses, it was nearly artistic. We used to look forward to the next morning to see your next masterpiece. We even tried to predict weather from them.” Connie chuckled blankly.

“But you sure did sleep soundly,” Jean mumbled.

“Do you remember when we swore to each other that we'd grow old together? That one day we'd be old men, sitting and drinking and remembering the old times?” Connie asked, his voice began breaking. “Was this all a lie?! Was this-”

“Who...” Bertolt gasped. “Who do you think... wants to do this?!”

All noise in the dungeon died. I could only hear my own heartbeat and Bertolt's rapid breathing.

“WHO DO YOU THINK LIKES TO KILL PEOPLE?!” Bertolt cried, shaking with sobs. “Connie... it's true that we deceived you all... but it wasn't all a lie! Those years or training... those were the happiest years in my life. More than any other...” For a moment, his voice cut off and he only sobbed aloud. I tried my best to remain still and keep my face blank. It was incomparably more difficult than in Erwin's office, when I was preparing myself for the message of Marco's death. _Oh, Bertolt..._

“Somebody...” Bertolt whimpered, “Please, somebody, please... I'm begging... please, somebody find us...”

Now the only sounds were Bertolt's sobs. I clenched my jaw to keep myself in line.

“Bertolt.”

If I wasn't faking being unconscious, my eyes would be as round and big as saucers.

“Bertolt, I believe you.” Marco said quietly.

_Oh god. I did that. I saved Marco, and Marco... said... oh... god..._

“Marco, you do understand that if it wasn't for _______-san, you'd be dead because of what... _he_... did?” Connie spat out. “If it wasn't for him and R... _the other two_ , my village, my family... they would still be all alive and fine?”

“I understand that even though I don't know the reason, what Annie, Reiner, and Bertolt did was not their choice,” said Marco. “And that even they themselves were not prepared for what it caused, what they saw first-hand. And that they regret it.”

 _Regret is useless,_ I thought. _It fixes nothing and only makes things worse, makes you doubt yourself and slows you down._

_So why am I still here, doing all this?_

Bertolt let out a broken, desperate sob. He leaned down, grasped me in his arms and hugged to his chest. _I hope they are at least feeling very, very uneasy. Look at him. Look. Look what happened to him. Look what happened to his mind. Look how broken he is._ Bertolt rocked back and forth, shuddering. He sniffed; by the sound of it, his nose was completely stuffed.

“There is nothing,” he whispered hoarsely. “There's nothing. Nothing. Nothing...”

“_______-san?” that was Armin's voice. “She's... she's crying? She can hear us, or...?”

I realised the drops on my face weren't Bertolt's tears. They were mine.

_I did it. I helped._

And then, I really fainted.

* * *

My consciousness slowly floated up. It wasn't a controlled flow; it was being pulled back down like a piece of wood that couldn't stay stable at water surface in a fast-pacing river. I was aware I was laying in bed, tucked under warm covers; then I sank down into blackness filled with distant child's sobbing and wheezing of someone on the brink of death; I was back in the reality and realised my hair was being stroked; again in the blackness, I heard a child humming a cheerful melody. Eventually, the piece of wood was pushed onto a riverbank. I opened my eyes.

It was my room. I glanced to the side. Bertolt was sitting on the edge of my bed, eyes closed. He was tired, with dark circles under his eyes and dishevelled hair. I sighed.

“Kombanwa,” I mumbled. He stirred and stared at me.

“If you keep doing this, I don't know if you-” he cut abruptly.

“Happy to see you, too,” I said in a dismissing tone.

“I'm worried,” he said quietly.

“There's something else you want to say, isn't there?”

Bertolt hummed awkwardly and rubbed his forehead.

“Do you think... you could... bring someone back... for me?” He was setting one word after another, carefully, visibly afraid to make it sound the wrong way.

“Who?” I asked, not quite on the purpose to prepare myself for the task.

“Marcel.”

“The kid that was eaten by... the titan? The fourth one in your group?” I almost spilled who was the titan that got to the poor boy. It wasn't a good time for that.

“My brother. Yeah.” Bertolt frowned and averted his gaze from me.

“Your brother?” I whispered. “He was your brother?”

“You didn't know about that?” he asked in disbelief. “It wasn't in the story? Why?”

“I... well...” I gulped. There wasn't exactly a way to put it gently. “He wasn't mentioned... much.”

“What do you mean? They decided he wasn't important?” Bertolt's voice got louder. “The author dismissed him? My brother?!”

“It... many great people weren't mentioned much,” I said slowly. “If it was up to me...”

“If it was up to you, there would be more Marco, wouldn't there?” He spat. I sat up. “Why don't you just go and fuck him or something if he's that important? Why are you wasting time on me? Oh, right. There's Jean. Just do your tricks and take Jean out, and you're free to go, right?”

I glared at Bertolt like I saw him for the first time in my life. He opened his mouth to say something more, but he closed them back rapidly upon my expression. I knew I was very pale at that moment.

“Get out,” I whispered. “Hoover, get out.” My voice was dangerously close to breaking. “Out. Get out, GET OUT!” I howled, pushing him off my bed. “GET OUT - _GET OUT!!!_ ” I screeched.

“I- I didn't mean-”

“GET OUT!”

He was pale now, too, eyeing the tears that broke the dam and flowed in streams down my face, and the desperate grimace that twisted my features.

_“GET OUT!”_

He backed off step by step and almost tripped. He turned around and skipped out of my room.

The door closed.

I cried out.

I wrapped my arms around my shins and hid my face in my knees, shaking. A melody bounced around my mind, sung happily by a child that still had problems with pronouncing r's and th's.

_I've got no strings_  
_To hold me down_  
_To make me fret, or make me frown_  
_I had strings_  
_But now I'm free_  
_There are no strings on me_

_Hi-ho the me-ri-o_  
_That's the only way to be_  
_I want the world to know_  
_Nothing ever worries me_

“Stooop,” I whimpered. “Stop...” I curled into a ball and fell onto my side, back onto the mattress. “Stop... why did I have to get here to be able to do that... why couldn't I change things earlier... stop... Why...”

I took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Mako-chan...”

"_______...” I suspected that Bertolt was sitting on the floor of the corridor, his back leaning on my door. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I-”

“You meant it,” I said, my voice thick because of my stuffed nose. “You fucking meant it.”

 _He is feeling insecure,_ I thought. _Those trust issues, and low self-esteem, and his experiences... he's insecure and afraid. Cool motive. Still hurt._

“You know nothing,” I continued.

_He really knows nothing._

“I... had a daughter.” Breathe in, breathe out. “Mako. She was five years old. There was no one sweeter and more uplifting than her,” in, out. 

"So _Marco_... you..."

“Go away.”

There was silence behind the door. No footsteps. _Ah, whatever, sit there, if that improves your mood. I'm going... I guess I'll sleep. I'm tired._

_I only hope I won't have any dreams._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xl_tt's popculture references strike back. Let's make a list. There was Doctor Who, For Whom the Bell Tolls, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Marvel's Loki, Howl's Moving Castle, DeathNote, Freckled Jesus, Supernatural, Age of Ultron's Quicksilver, and Disney's Pinocchio.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, I love every bit of feedback <3


	9. Becoming Sushi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find a new objective for Bertolt and point out an achievement at the end of it. The mission turns out much different than you expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains swearing (aaaaalways), some beating and punching, some blood, and some very mild lime. This one is much longer than usual - initially I thought to cut the chapter in the moment when you and Bertl go out, but then I decided it'd make this chapter rather boring and without much action, so here you go. More reading.

It was dark when I returned to the reality. At first I thought that it was my own snoring that woke me up. I remained in bed, my eyes stuck onto some random point at the ceiling. There were footsteps approaching my door.

“You?” It was Jean's voice. “What are you doing, sitting here? Is _______-san in- oi, wha- don't- don't cry, come on-”

I frowned and prayed for... _I'm not even sure what for, but if it involves having a moment of peace, that would be it. God help me_. I stood up and shuffled to open my door. Bertolt did not expect that, and in the effect his back lost its support and he fell backwards, straight onto my legs. I stared down at him. He stared up at me. We both looked terrible, me with my bed-head and wrinkled clothes, and he with his face all marked with exhaustion and crying.

“Oh.” Jean awkwardly shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I just... we are going to have... a little... party? Dunno if that's the word. 104th. We thought... uh, you could drop by. Like, in an hour. If you want.”

“Is Bertolt going?” I asked in a still sleepy, hoarse tone.

“Y-yeah. Yeager won't be there, so I guess he can come. I mean, uh, _you_ can come.” Jean gulped and gazed down at Bertolt, who looked like he wanted to sink into the floor and never come out.

“That's good,” I murmured. “Just... why are you inviting us? You know what we-”

“Marco trusts you, _______-san,” Jean cut me out. “And so do I. And most of others from 104th. As for... Bertolt,” he seemed to have a bit of a problem with saying the name, “Marco believes him. Marco's good with rating people, so that's good enough for me.”

“And Reiner?” My expression turned to a slight suspicion.

“He's... he's all right, I guess.” Jean shrugged.

 _Oh dear,_ I thought. _So you only behave like that towards Bertolt. Reiner's an extroverted, loud, smiling big brother, so it can't get through into your skulls that he's no better. Taciturn and nervous introvert like Bertolt doesn't appeal to you nearly as much. Out of all those cadets, perhaps only Armin and Marco can see that, although their views on the matter are likely very different. ___I held back a shiver. _Can't say I didn't expect that. Nothing new._

“In an hour,” I repeated.

“In the abandoned mess hall in the west wing.” Jean nodded. “Uh... see you?”

“Yeah.”

I observed as he strode down the hall and disappeared in the staircase. Then I sighed and my gaze fell back to Bertolt. I sighed again. He didn't look back at me; his eyes were fixed on his feet and they were shining under a deep frown. I knelt down to sit on my heels and I moved his head onto my lap to allow myself to run my fingers through his hair, paying no mind that they were slightly greasy after another sweaty day. Bertolt relaxed a bit and dropped his eyelids before he opened them again to glance up at me.

“I shouldn't have... lashed out on you,” he said quietly. His tone was coarse and thick and humid.

“Yeah, you shouldn't have,” I agreed. “But it's my fault that, ugh, how to even put it...”

“Famous trust issues,” Bertolt muttered. “That's what it takes.” He took a slow, calm breath. “I don't really feel like going,” he admitted. “I've had enough adventures for today,” he pondered. “Come to think of it, I've had enough of them for a lifetime, or two.”

“We both have.” I straightened a stray lock from his forehead. “We should go, at least for five minutes. I know you are exhausted. I'm falling off my feet, too. But this is important.”

“I... I don't care... that much,” Bertolt whispered. “Maybe it's true, what they say about me.”

I shrugged.

“You don't have to care. But we have to care about the appearance, if we want to do anything here. Change anything,” I explained just as quietly. “And you don't believe in what you've just said anyway. You are tired, that's all.”

_Did I just say... I said “we”. Fuck._

“I feel like I've been tired since I was told to... do that.” He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose.

“She looked just like me when I was her age, you know. Exactly like me.”

“She must have been a beautiful child.”

“I don't even know who her father was. I got drunk at some party one night,” I mumbled sombrely. “I wasn't sure if I wanted to... keep it. To bring a kid into such fucked up world. But then I thought, it's not going to change any time soon. But it might get better, who knows.” The tips of my fingers trailed down to trace gentle lines and circles on Bertolt's cheek. “That's where I know that things get worse more often than not. I don't lie to myself on that any more.” Bertolt caught my hand and pressed my knuckles to his lips. “So I gave birth to Mako. And I cried so much, I felt like I've already done a horrible thing to her, to get her into that ill, rotten, dying reality. In the end, I was right. She was shot when we were going home with food. In the head. And then she had no head. The... the things, all that, it was everywhere, on the street, on her, on me...”

Bertolt sat up and looked at me. There was a window on the corridor wall behind him, and the moonlight shone on his outlines, making him look mysterious, if not slightly intimidating. But he only turned around to face me, and sat on his heels as well, and pulled me close to his chest.

* * *

_“Okaaaasaaan, fish?”_

_“When we get back. Hurry up. It's not sa-”_

_It was everywhere._

_“M... Mako?”_

* * *

“That scar on your thigh-” Bertolt hesitantly stroked my side a couple of inches below my hip.

“You noticed it?” I pressed my temple to his collarbone. “The bullet grazed my leg before it hit her. Half an inch deep. I didn't even realise until they scooped me to shelter and yelled at me.” I sighed. “So I'm going to watch over Marco. Pray you never know what's it like to lose a child.”

“I don't think we'll live long enough to have any,” he mumbled into my hair.

I froze internally. _He said “we”. He said “we”._

_He's going to say_ that _. Soon._

“Shower,” I said, snaking my hand up his neck and diving my fingers into his hair. Icky.

“I don't want to go,” Bertolt said, getting up. “To that... thing, I mean.”

“Don't whine.” I rolled my eyes. We walked into my quarter and I closed the door. I peered at Bertolt. He was standing mere inches away, looking down to me. There was a mixture of calmness, exhaustion, sadness, resignation, and acceptance in those green eyes. But I caught a glimmer of something hopeful there, too. I moved my fingers to undo the buckles of his harness. “We won't stay long, just to show up and show that we are not monsters with bloodlust.”

Bertolt snorted. So did I.

“Think of it as a mission,” I added. “To become... umm...”

“A Warrior?” he asked blankly.

“Nah, that's old... sorry,” I remarked upon his deadpan expression. “To become... Sushi.”

“Sushi?” Bertolt frowned. “What's that?”

“It's, well, great and fabulous.” _God help me._

“Okay,” he decided seriously. “I'll do my best to become Sushi.”

“You think you can do that?” I asked, moving down to his belt and straps on his thighs. He gulped when I grazed my palm over his crotch. “Be your awkward, quiet, nervous, and shy self?”

“Y-yeah, I think I- I can do that,” he stuttered. I got back to my feet and he bent down to take off his boots. The gear fell down to the floor with a clutter that wasn't in fact loud, but it pierced the deeply silent surroundings nevertheless. I undid a couple of upper buttons of my shirt and slid it over my head to drop it somewhere across the room. Bertolt dipped his face to kiss my breast, but I held him away by his hair.

“Later,” I said simply. “Don't think with your-”

“I get it.” He pouted.

“You're tired as fuck already, you'll fall asleep if we-”

“ _I get it!_ ” he repeated in singsong. 

We slowly made it to the bathroom, scattering clothes on our way.

 

“Why so cold?” Bertolt whined while we stood in the shower, viciously attacking our bodies with soap. 

“You know _why._ ”

“This is torture.”

“Kneel.” I scowled. He obliged and wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his forehead to my skin while I washed his hair. With his height, his head reached my chest in that position. _Damn tall people._ I gently massaged his scalp and he let out a content hum.

“Done.”

 

I rubbed my eyes after we dried ourselves and sat naked on my bed. I'd be very cold in the Autumn air if it wasn't for Bertolt's temperature, so I simply clang to him like a warmth-seeking reptile. He surrounded me with his arms and sighed into my wet hair. I felt his fingers brushing over the scar on my thigh.

“Okay,” he said. “We'll keep Marco safe.”

I shuddered and stared up at him.

“I...” I uttered. _I'm out of words._

And thank goodness that Bertolt fucking Hoover understood and only hugged me closer. I hummed and pressed the side of my head to his heart, listening to his steady heartbeat. He yawned, the intake of air resonating in his chest.

“No sleeping,” I mumbled and yawned as well.

“No sleeping,” he agreed, barely hitting the right vowels.

“Unf...” I rubbed my eyelids again and stood up to get fresh clothes. I pulled out some pants and socks, and a comfortable dress. Didn't bother with finding any belt for it; I took out one of Bertolt's shirts (we called that small stash _emergency wear_... in case, well, you can imagine) and slipped it on me instead of a jacket. I rolled up the sleeves to show my hands. Rolled up a lot. A lot. I threw Bertolt's clothes at him.

“Headshot!” I cheered. Bertolt groaned. I sat by my table and observed as he dressed up in the dark. _I could watch him all the time. That's a lot of handsome standing before me here. Damn._

Eventually he straightened up and peered at me expectantly. I stood up and scooped his hand in mine. He bit his lips and blinked a couple of times, and even though I couldn't see it in the dark room, I was sure he blushed. _Honestly,_ I snorted in my thought, _this guy is amazing. He fucked me two times and seen me naked more than that, and he blushes at this._

“We still have a quarter of an hour,” I pointed out.

“Mhm...” He bent down to brush his lips over mine and I felt butterflies swarming in my belly. I moistened my lips with my tongue and gave him a sweet, brief kiss.

“Come on. Slow walk. Do you even know where it is?”

“Yeah. We used to sit there in the evenings sometimes...” he trailed off, succumbing into memories. His brows tightened and he let down his gaze.

“Welcome back, then.” I gave him a crooked smile.

* * *

The corridors were desolated, a normal thing at such hour (I was informed it was after eleven), but the west wing oozed a true atmosphere of abandonment. Levi probably was falling to his knees every time it was mentioned. There were holes in the ceiling here or there, and the cracks in the walls were far wider than anywhere else. It was, of course, spotless, but I figured it was being cleaned only as a form of punishment. The ceilings were supported by thick beams here or there, and the floor beneath us screeched and creaked awfully under every footstep. The castle was old. It was a miracle that only a small part of one wing was in such state.

The old mess hall was much smaller than the one used currently, but still, forty people would easily fit in. There was just one little table, and five benches gathered by a fireplace that was now hosting a pleasant, radiating fire. They were already there, Sasha, Connie, Jean, Marco, Ymir, Armin, and Reiner. Their heads turned to us and we were greeted with a smile – at least from Marco, Sasha, and Reiner. The rest nodded.

“Uh... hi?” I uttered. All my brave talk was all forgotten. At that moment, social interaction was far, far, far down on the list of my skills, if at all. An unpleasant knot formed in my stomach. _Keep the fuck yourself in line, shitty moron,_ I scolded myself. _This is a meeting. They are fucking 8 years younger than you at least. Do it. It's your strategy. It's no different from anything you do every fucking day here. You manage through fucking Erwin's shit meetings, you can do this as well. You can do this. Don't be a Bertolt._

“Hey!” Marco smiled wider. “Come on, sit with us!” He patted the bench he was occupying with Jean; there was still enough space for two people on it. So we plopped down, Bertolt on the edge, I between him and Marco. We were given one cup each. I smelled the contents. Beer.

_I hate beer._

_Gonna give it to Bertolt when no one's looking._

_Why did I come here? I should've listened to him, we could've been in my room fucking right now. Why did I come here? This is a disaster. It's so awkward. They all hate me now. Why am I so quiet? Why are they so quiet? They are all thinking how horrible I am and they regret they invited me._ I gulped and absently brought the cup to my lips, forgetting what was inside. I scowled at the taste, but managed to mask it somehow.

“_______-san, you are awesome,” Sasha said. “I didn't get it earlier, but you've been helping us all along.”

My jaw dropped. _What-?_

“That's right,” Jean agreed quietly. “If it wasn't for you... you keep on giving us a chance. I would... I don't know what I would do, if you didn't... you know. Keep him safe.” He peeked at me briefly. His eyes were shining, difficult to say if it was due to the beer or possible tears.

“And who knows what would have happened to Historia if you didn't say to put down that Reiss motherfucker,” Ymir admitted sternly. _Well, I know what would have happened, and she would actually be all right without me. But I guess I'm not going to admit that. Ever._

“I would be dead if it wasn't for you,” Marco whispered, his big puppy eyes fixed on me. They had the same colour as my daughter's. I looked away. “Twice. And who knows how many of us here would be, too.”

_None. At least up until I know. So... who knows? Who knows indeed..._

“I know that you tried to save my village.” Connie's words reached my ears. “I appreciate that.”

The group exchanged looks and nodded. A line of thank-you's crept through the air. I bit my lips. _This can't be real. Did I really do that much? I didn't do all that... why are they saying that? They are lying, they must want something, I don't believe anyone would simply thank me._

“And... Bertolt...” Bertolt stiffened. He peeked at me with eyes wide with fear before he turned to Springer. “Ymir told me that it... she told me some things. I can't forgive you for what you did, not ever. But that one thing, that wasn't your fault.”

There was such an amount of various emotions in Bertolt's gorgeous eyes that I didn't know where to begin to describe them. His gaze was wandering around every face in the hall, disbelieving, looking for mockery.

“Just don't apologise,” Ymir said. _She doesn't know who she ate,_ I thought. _Marcel. Maybe I should tell her. Later._ “We all know you are constipated with guilt, and any amount of sorry's won't change anything.”

My attention shifted towards Armin. He was the only one that hadn't said anything yet, instead simply staring at the empty cup in his hands. The barrel was standing on the table right next to him and I wondered how much he had had already. I didn't peg him as a drinker, so I supposed it didn't take much to make him completely wasted. As if he sensed my stare, he tilted his head up and locked his eyes with mine. His face said nothing at first, but then it melted into a gentle smile. His eyes really had that ocean colour.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he snapped his head to the side and his eyes widened rapidly as he peered at something behind us.

“E-Eren?”

_Holyfuckingshitfuck._

We all turned in our seats to stare at the newcomer. It was Eren alone, thankfully. _Mikasa wouldn't make the situation any better._ He stood at the threshold, taking in the view, his face rather merry – until he saw Bertolt and Reiner. It was like observing weather on a sped-up video; storm clouds entered the scene in a second and the surroundings suddenly succumbed into cold darkness. Though _cold_ wasn't really a fitting word there. His eyes were almost oozing emerald fire.

“What the fuck are those fucking traitors doing here? _Alive?_ ” he hissed. Bertolt froze. Eren took a step forward and I got to my feet to stand between him and Bertolt. I could hear Reiner standing up as well, but Eren's eyes were fixed onto Bertolt. In a couple of fast, long steps, Eren skipped right before me, and Bertolt finally stood up, too. I extended my arms to the side.

“Move aside,” Eren growled to me, not letting his glare off of Bertolt.

“Fuck no,” I spat. “Don't you dare touch him. Don't you dare.”

“Move aside,” he insisted, this time peering at me. “You disgust me.”

“Forget it,” I replied with the most venomous gaze I could muster. “You are not- unfff!” I staggered back, feeling a shattering punch at my face.

“Huh?” Eren's brows furrowed with confusion that layered over his fury. I sniffed. Blood was pouring out of my nose. It was broken.

Everyone jumped to their feet, a cloud of shocked yelps rolled around the hall.

“You-” I started, but a blow to my stomach made me bend in a half and squeezed all the air out from my lungs. I coughed. Bertolt caught me under my arms before I fell to my knees. My head rapidly rolled to the side under another punch that this time connected with my cheekbone. Eren stepped back and watched it with wide eyes.

“What-”

A hit to my lower face and I felt my teeth move in my gums awfully. I spat out the blood that sourced from a deep cut on my lower lip. I spat out a tooth along with it. If it wasn't for Bertolt, I would have been sprawled on the floor. My face wrinkled in a manner that would be assigned to an angry cat showing off its fangs. There was blood all over my mouth and chin and my teeth.

“Stop it-” I hissed. Another air-taking blow and I coughed out more blood.

“I don't-”

I felt hands on my neck, squeezing tightly and I couldn't take a breath. I choked and reached my own hands to it, but there was nothing to grasp, nothing to remove.

“Eren, stop!” Armin yelled. “EREN!”

“I don't – I'm not doing this!”

“Yes, you are! STOP IT!”

Suddenly, the pressure was gone, and so was the ground under my feet, or at least it felt like that. I was limp in Bertolt's hold, panting hoarsely and ogling Eren, who was utterly appalled.

“Don't you – haaa-hh – fucking – ahhh – touch him,” I mumbled viciously. _Well done, Yeager,_ I thought. _You have no idea how much you've just helped us with this tantrum of yours. So good that you came over._

“Eren...” Marco looked at him in shock.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Yeager?!” Jean approached him. _Oh my, was it worth it to come here, this is fantastic._ The others were watching Eren in bewilderment. Bertolt scooped me up and kept close to his chest, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. Quiet, terrified, desperate noises vibrated under his ribs.

“It's not his fault,” I said weakly. “He didn't want to hurt me.”

“But he did,” Jean snarled, glancing at me over his shoulder. “He wanted to fucking murder Bertolt, but you protected him. You coulda fucking died!” _That's right, keep going, Jean. We're almost there._

“Shut up, Horseface!” Eren yelled. “I wouldn't do that!”

“You were on a good way to it, though,” Connie said.

Armin was watching the scene with a frown. Calculating. _He'll know it's of profit to us,_ I remarked. _But he won't pin it on us. He'll peg it for what it was, a good opportunity. Never underestimate Armin. Did he tell Eren how my presence works? Rather not. Eren was too surprised._

“Damn it, I'm sorry, _______-san.” Jean sighed with frustration. “I didn't know he'd show up.”

“What do you mean, Jean?” Eren's eyebrows shot up. “Don't tell me you _invited_ those motherfuckers?!”

“Eren...” Marco shuffled his feet, not looking at him. “It's not black and white. Nothing is.”

“Oh no. It's fucking red. There's so much blood on their hands that black and white doesn't apply,” Eren snarled. _No, Eren, not that way. Not that way._

“It wasn't their idea.”

_Armin, bless you._

“There's something way bigger going on,” he added. “And neither Bertolt, Reiner, nor Annie are anywhere near the ones who are really behind this.”

“Still mass-murderers.” Eren shrugged.

“Yes.” Armin agreed quietly.

“Then... I have a question.” Eren directed his glare at me again. “Why the hell does she keep protecting them?”

“I'd like to know that, too,” Armin said. The rest, even Reiner, seemed to be of the same thought. I fixed my blank stare on my knees, my eyelids dropped halfway.

“I have had enough of seeing death,” I muttered. The place was so quiet that the fire appeared loud, everyone was focused on hearing my words. “Fucking enough, fucking fed up with it. I'm not saying they are not guilty, nor that they don't deserve to be punished.” I closed my eyes. “There was so much blood that shedding even more is insane. Fucking enough. I don't want any fucking more of it. Yell and scream at me as you fucking will. I can't save you all, as much as I want and try. But I'm going to do what I can, and I'm doing fucking that right now.”

“Well...” Marco sighed. “There it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which xl_tt portrays their own social skill issues and anxiety. Ain't no party like a party when you have anxiety as fuck over 9000. Especially when you expect to behave as your usual composed self... and then... SURPRISE, MADAFAKA! No one expects the Spanish Inquisition to actually appear when you always expect it anyway. "But maybe this time?"
> 
> Sushi was the first thing I thought of when I wanted to pick a "title" achievement for the mission. Decided it was too good not to use.
> 
> Please please please let me know what you think, I'm half-dying for hearing from you <3


	10. Neither soldiers nor warriors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the unfortunate party, you begin to ponder about your influence on Bertolt.

Having a whole tooth grow back in place of the one I had knocked out was a bizarre sensation, like pulling out a splinter (or something more gross) from under my skin, leaving an itch and some sort of discomfort. I probed it with my tongue. It was perfect, without the cavity that was in the old tooth. _Suck it, Yeager._

We all sat down. Eren was still standing behind us, clearly having no idea what to do. I rested my head on Bertolt's collarbone while he stroked my hand, observing how my body was going back to its healthy state and trying to wipe off some of the blood from my face. He licked his finger and gradually was rubbing it off, making sure nothing goes to waste. No one noticed.

“Eren, sit down, if you will,” I said with a trace of a friendly tone. _No point in pissing him off now, quite the contrary._

He stepped forward and hesitated before eventually plopping down next to Armin, who gave him a mug filled with beer, without uttering a word. Eren, on the other hand, seemed to have something to say.

“Listen, _______-san,” he began awkwardly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” I smiled slightly. “You just wanted to murder me by killing my heart.”

Bertolt shuddered and hugged me tighter. His breath hitched. Eren supported his forehead on his palm and slowly shook his head. Armin was watching the scene with the same focused expression. Reiner was leaning on the side of the table behind the both of them, observing his mug with incredible interest whenever he wasn't gulping down the contents. Marco was hunching forward to peer at me with worry in his big eyes. Jean was sitting on his other side, so I couldn't see what he was doing. Connie and Sasha had their eyes dead set on Eren. Ymir's face showed disinterest as her sight wandered around the hall.

“I can't understand that. I can't.” Eren blurted out. “How can you touch him? How can you even look at him? And... and _love_ him? You've said you know what he had done. What kind of fucked up mind do you have? You, guys...” He turned to Reiner and Bertolt. “You are neither soldiers nor warriors... you are just murderers. You killed so many innocent people... you are _mass murdering psychopaths._ ”

Bertolt flinched.

“Eren... how much of a choice did you have whether to become a shifter or not?” I asked.

“What does that have to do with it? He didn't have to do all this. He had a choice.” He shook his head again. “ _You_ had a fucking _choice_ , Bertolt. I'd rather kill myself than do that. And you... you did that twice. And wanted-”

“He didn't,” Marco said quietly. “You should've been there, Eren. In the dungeon.”

“If you were brainwashed... no, raised like this, Eren, I wonder what you'd have done.”

“But that's the point!” Eren growled. “That is the fucking point! That is what makes them enemies.”

“Does it really?” I murmured.

Silence fell.

Then we heard footsteps, and the door creaked. Being securely held by Bertolt, I wasn't able to see who was that, but judging by everyone's faces, it was no one merrily expected.

“What are you doing here, brats?” Levi spoke dryly. “It's fucking hours after curfew.”

_Well, you are up and about, too._

“And what all those shouts were about?”

I nudged Bertolt to release me. I stood up and stepped over the bench to face Levi. His eyebrow shot up as he noticed the remains of blood on my face. Then his eyes turned to Eren, who suddenly showed every sign of I-want-to-disappear-right-now.

“Yeager, don't you think that she's rather below your skill level? What is this?”

“It wasn't him.” I deadpanned. “Might have been no one in the room, how should I know?”

Levi measured my stature again before pivoting to march away.

“Beds, now. Two weeks of cleaning the attics. Every one of you. Don't make me repeat.”

“Armin,” Eren groaned. “It's all your fault, you've said they weren't coming.”

Armin was explaining to Eren how it was very much Eren's fault. His face was pale and sweaty, a classic example of a basic Bertolt. I wasn't really listening to Armin's current words. 

_So it was you,_ I thought. _You've set this up. The question is... do you actually want to help us, or rather you want to gain my trust for something quite contrary? You knew Eren wouldn't kill anyone, not with me being around. You knew he'd go for Bertolt. You knew I'd stand in the way. You knew the folks would look at us in warmer light afterwards. What's your goal? You wouldn't have done it solely on your own, though... so, what's Erwin's plan here?_

_Either way, my trust is not for sale. Let's see where this goes. Use it._

* * *

Bertolt carried me to my quarter. I didn't oppose, it was soothing to snuggle up in his arms like that. We were halfway up the stairs when he sighed and glanced down to me.

“I told you not to do this,” he said sadly. “You are really going to hurt yourself one day. Permanently. I could've dealt with Eren on my own.”

“Thing is,” I mumbled, staring back at him, “I don't think Eren would've stopped if it was you instead of me.”

Bertolt pondered on this all the rest of the way. Once he tugged me under the blankets and sat on the edge of my bed, he gazed blankly through the window before he turned to me and took a deep breath. Nothing came out of his mouth for a long while, though. I waited.

“Did you mean it?” he whispered. “That... the... the heart?”

I broke the eye contact and tilted my head to watch the ceiling.

“I did.”

The silence after I spoke lasted so long that I peered at Bertolt again. He was staring at me wide-eyed, his lips in a tight line. I felt an unpleasant twist in my stomach and a pang in my chest.

“Wh-” I began, but I was abruptly cut off.

Bertolt let out a loud, heart-wrenching half-sob half-gasp. His shoulders slumped and he shook while tears streamed down his contorted face. The eyes that were straight set on me were filled with gratitude, relief, but also with anguish. _There was always that anguish in them_ , I realised. I crawled to him under the covers to place my head on his lap, and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“Cry,” I said softly, rubbing circles on the small of his back. “Let it out.”

_The only time I cried here was when I was angry. I can't do that. How is he able to pour so much out? How is he doing that?_

Shuddering fingers combed through my hair. He was murmuring something, but I was unable to catch the words.

“Come here,” I spoke gently. I rolled off of his lap and pulled his hand. Bertolt kicked off his shoes and slid under the blankets to cuddle to me closely, burying his face in my chest. The sobs were quieting down; only the tears remained flowing as they were, soaking into my nightgown. It was my turn to stroke his hair that was soft and silky after the shower. I hummed soothingly a calm melody in my native language.

“Thank you...” Bertolt's voice was so quiet that it resembled more of a breath.

 _What for?_ I thought. _It's my fault you've been a crying, unstable mess the past weeks. You were holding up way better before that Summer day on the Eastern Tower. I did this. I fucked up your shell. And now you are a mess. Was this the right thing to do? Did this actually make things better? At all? I... don't know if I can help you._ My throat constricted. _Saving Marco is so much easier than this... I fucked up._

I pressed a small kiss on the top of Bertolt's head.

“Sleep, Bertolt,” I murmured.

And so he did. Gradually, his breath slowed down and the tight hold he kept around me relaxed while I continued stroking his hair. I sighed deeply.

“I'm sorry,” I mumbled into his hair. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

Repeating it over and over like a prayer, I followed Bertolt into the sleep.

* * *

_Uuuuuuhhh, I groaned. The room was filled with cries and whimpers. I opened my eyes. The clock showed four minutes past one. Oh, great. I slept half an hour. New record._

_I crawled off of the bed and wavered my way to the crib, trying to ignore how awful my greasy, unwashed for days hair felt and how my sweats were, well, sweaty. Really sweaty._

_When was the last time I did the laundry?_

_Umfff, I mumbled, fighting to keep my eyes open. Sleep is the enemy, isn't it?_

_The little critter inside gawked at me, completely quiet all of a sudden. I bent down – my spine let out a few loud pops – and picked up the baby. I wandered around the bedroom, cradling her and humming a calming melody._

_I frowned._

_I..._

_This is not..._

_I gaped through the window. It was on the same level as the street. Debris everywhere. A huge chunk of concrete, splashes of red that leaked from underneath it suggested that it was covering something morbid. I looked around, hugging the baby to my chest._

_There was no one else on the street, I was standing on it all alone._

_Iku-chan?_

_Tomo-chan?_

_M..._

_Mako? Mako-chan?_

_I slowly, hesitantly lowered my gaze to see what I was holding._

_Okaasaaaaaan!_

_I screamed._

* * *

There was no dramatic gasp nor scream when I woke up, I wasn't sweaty and my breath wasn't rapid. My eyelids simply fluttered open, slightly swollen. My mouth was dry. Bertolt was sprawled across the bed; one of his legs was swinging over the edge, his foot almost touching the floor, while his arm was on the opposite side, snaked between the bed frame and the wall. His other leg was between my legs, and his left arm was squished under my waist. His head was... I had no idea where. The main problem was his torso, pressing onto my stomach and making it very clear that my bladder was full. I groaned and tried to set myself free, but to no avail.

“Bertolt,” I mumbled. “Oi, Bertolt.”

He snored.

“Bertolt, god fucking dammit.”

“Mmmffp...”

“Wake up, motherfucker, or I'm gonna pee my pants!”

He sprang up so abruptly that he fell off the bed.

I didn't wait for his reaction and jumped out to the bathroom, bumping my little toe on the edge of the table on my way. I hissed.

When I returned, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. He took off his sweater and shirt when I was away. Grey light began filling the room. It was dawn. Bertolt stared up at me, doing his best to keep focus under his puffy eyelids. His hair was hopelessly tangled and sticking out at ridiculous angles.

“You look like shit,” I pointed out with a half of a smirk.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“I guess.”

I lay with my back snuggled to Bertolt's chest, already drifting away when he spoke up hesitantly.

“I... I'm not sure if it was a dream or not... but... were you saying that you were sorry?”

“Maybe I was talking in my sleep or something.” I tightened my hold on his hand.

“Okay,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my hair, though his tone suggested he didn't believe me. “Sweet dreams.”


	11. Sweet dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the night, strong memories seep into your head and create crooked visions.  
> In the morning, Armin is waiting behind the door.  
> In the afternoon, a storm is coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blood, mention of gore, foul language.

_I'm standing on the roof. Screams and dust flow in the air, the latter tinted gold and red in the setting sun. The ground is shaking. I can't move. I stare up to a freckled soldier boy that is peering over his shoulder in shock. A blond girl dashes towards him and pushes him off the roof, straight into a titan's hand._

_I fall to my knees and open my mouth to yell and wail, but no sound escapes my throat, like I wasn't there at all. There's nothing to cover the desperate scream of the soldier boy and the horrifying sound of his body being crushed between enormous teeth. The girl slays the titan and disappears from my sight, diving to the ground._

_I crawl towards the edge and look down. A huge chunk of concrete is hiding something underneath, only a splash of red shows itself from below it. Debris covers the street full of foul smelling fumes, a headless child is sprawled in the middle of it like an unwanted toy._

_A blonde girl with a rifle runs past the little body._

_I fall off the roof._

* * *

I opened my eyes. It was still grey, not long after the dawn. I turned to my other side and nuzzled into the side of Bertolt's neck. He was motionless, breathing slowly and calmly.

 _Hard to believe in those weird poses of his, he is so still_ , a thought briefly appeared in my mind before I dozed off again.

* * *

_“How do you even eat with these?” Bertolt frowns as he is looking at a pair of chopsticks in his hand. I chuckle and set them the correct way in his fingers and show how to move them. He frowns deeper. “This is madness.”_

_“Come on!” I smile widely, picking up one uramaki and bring it to my mouth as Bertolt peers intently at my every movement. Then... he bites his lip... manages to catch a roll... and..._

_“Dammit,” he mumbled and tried to pick it up from the table._

_“That's right!” I chuckle when he finally manages to succeed. He chews slowly with a thoughtful expression._

_“It's delicious. You are a great cook.”_

_“Okaasaaaaan, fish!”_

_“Marco, what are you doing out of your bed? It's late, go back to sleep!” Bertolt frowns, looking behind me._

_“Okaaaasaaan...”_

_“Off you go, you naughty titan!” I say. “I wonder where did he get that from, hm?”_

_“That's more like you than me.” Bertolt smiles._

_I peek over my shoulder. The room grows cold._

_“Okaasan!_

* * *

I didn't open my eyes, only moaned and yawned. I was vaguely aware that Bertolt's elbow was poking my hip. If it was an elbow.

I drifted off.

* * *

_I approached a huge chunk of concrete. There was blood and gore pouring from underneath it, a never-ending source, pooling vastly and soaking into my shoes._

_Mako... Marco? Marco? Mako? Marco...? Where are you, child?_

_I passed the concrete block and wandered down the street. Dense vapours spread around me. They reeked disgusting, rotten, vile. They obscured my vision and I wasn't sure where I was going any more. A smell of smoke mixed with them. I looked under my feet; I could make out bloody splashes and an occasional body fragment, a hand, a leg, sometimes a torso that melted into the fog, hiding the identities of the cadavers._

_I nearly bumped into a wall, noticing it in the last moment. It was wooden, and next to me there was a window, a pretty type divided into many smaller glass squares. It was broken, the missing shards and pieces made the rest resemble of sharp teeth. The scent of blood was very strong here._

_I glanced to my left, to the ground, and I saw a side of a body. My heart stopped for a second and then began pounding at an insane pace. I took a step back, and another, and one more, until I tripped over another pile of debris... no, it was a body. There was the exact same window next to me, the same that I'd just began to back away from._

_I squeezed my eyes shut and crawled on all fours towards the centre of the street, blind, slicing my hands on the glass shards... and when I tried to orientate where I am with my hearing, I realised there was no sound. Not even a whisper, no hum of the wind, nothing._

_There was only the stench. And the cold. Freezing._

* * *

A kiss woke me up. I slowly opened my eyes, my vision was blurry and I tried to focus on something. Bertolt's face. Sleepy. Concerned. Damp. Gorgeous.

“It's okay,” he hummed. We were laying on our sides, facing each other merely inches away. “It was only a dream.” He reached out his hand and cupped my cheek to stroke my skin with his thumb. He gave me a small smile. So pretty.

“Did I scream or something?” I mumbled. My mouth was dry.

“You were shaking.”

“Oh.”

The room was flooded with pale autumnal light. The flying dust was shimmering. It was cold. I shuffled forward and let Bertolt surround me with his arms, I snuggled my head under his chin and breathed in his smell. Sweaty, dusty, a hint of soap, and something I couldn't name, but it was calming and heart-warming. 

_That's him. That's Bertolt_ , I thought.

_What am I doing? Breaking him? Yesterday, there was that thing yesterday... But he's so calm now. Like he had no concerns and - and what? Is he feeling safe?_

I received a little kiss on the top of my head.

“I think...” Bertolt trailed off for a while. “I think I trust you. And don't worry,” he added immediately. “You need to take your own time. Don't hurry. I will wait.”

I wasn't sure if I was able to look him in the eyes, so instead of meeting his lips, I left a lingering kiss on his throat.

“It's the times like this one that keep me standing,” he said quietly. “You do.”

This time I stared up. His eyes were closed and he had one mighty blush on his cheeks. I moved up to brush my slightly open lips against his, to which he responded tenderly, grazing my cheek with his fingers.

A knock at the door.

It wasn't loud nor very insistent, but after spending so much time in silence and talking only in whispers, it was like someone fired an acoustic flare. We both flinched and Bertolt sat up. His eyes roamed my room in panic.

“_-______-san? It's Armin. I'm sorry to disturb you,” he called hesitantly from the corridor.

I got up and silently gestured to Bertolt to relax. It didn't work much. I approached the door and opened. Armin stood dressed full in his uniform. His face was a bit pink and he was trying to calm his rapid breath. I noticed a bruise forming on his jaw.

“Morning training?” I asked, peering from the small crack between the door and the door frame.

“Y-yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I'm sorry to disturb you, but I really didn't want to wait any longer, and it's past eleven already.” My eyebrows shot up.

“Is it?” I sighed and rubbed my face. “Give me a moment, I'll dress up.” Not waiting for his reply, I closed the door and turned around. Bertolt was sitting upright. His face was bright red. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple. “Oh my.” I snickered. “Someone stayed in lady's bed overnight and almost got caught. No matter that he'd already fu-”

“Do you really have to say it like that?” Bertolt mumbled with a hint of sadness. “Not that I mind your usual demeanour, it's just... two minutes ago, it was...”

“Oh.” I felt a blush creeping up my ears. _Me, blushing?_ “Yeah. You're right. Sorry.” I walked up to the bed and grasped Bertolt's shoulders to pull him to me for a kiss. He hummed calmly and put his hands on my waist. I barely managed to step away and straighten up. “I guess I should get dressed.” I grabbed the hems of my nightgown and pulled it off over my head, leaving me only in my bloomers ( _it's fucking cold, why the hell should I wear just some summer-thin pants?_ ). Bertolt's jaw dropped and his face ran right into a beetroot shade.

“Really, Bertolt, really?” I chuckled, but without the prior smirk. I marched away to browse my wardrobe. “I'd give my hands and feet for a cup of coffee...”

“Tell me about it, they don't have it inside the Walls...” he said, getting up and stretching. I paused my search to watch how his muscles flexed and moved under his supple skin. He noticed that and smiled. “Really, _______, really?”

I flashed him a raspberry and pinned my warm stockings to my garters. I was about to pick up a skirt when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and I felt hot breath descending on the nape of my neck. I shuddered.

“You sure you have to go?” Bertolt purred. “You look really good in these stockings.”

_Oh boy. I can't go. I'm not going. I'm staying. I'm so staying._

“Bertolt, please...” I moaned, tilting my head back. “Armin's waiting outside.”

“Armin can wait longer.”

“If you don't stop torturing me, I'm going to take you with me and when we'll be sitting somewhere public, I'll put my hand in your pants under the table and make things for you very, very, very awkward.”

“Um... guys...” It was Armin's voice, muffled by the door that separated us. “I... I can hear you, you know?”

Bertolt jumped away like he burned his fingers and I bent forward in a burst of laughter.

“Arlert, your strategic moves are getting indecently forward.” I cackled.

“I seriously can't wait longer, I have patrol duty in ten,” Armin squeaked. _Ah, pretending you're on your own accord here, Armin. Interesting._ “And... Bertolt?”

“Mm?” Bertolt's voice at that moment would probably be as high-pitched as Armin's, so he resolved to a broken hum. He picked up the shirt he threw onto the floor last night and reached for the sweater.

“You have that patrol with me.”

Bertolt dropped the shirt.

“ _What?!_ ”

“Um... Levi said you and Reiner were going back into the usual tasks. After yesterday, I guess. Of course, you are assigned only with... eh... other people, to keep watch on you.”

I snorted. _Armin keeping watch on Bertolt? Bertolt could knock this poor little ferret out with a flick of his fingers... He won't do this, but still... This means Erwin's checking him out in that direction, he's giving him a chance to run... no, that can't be it._

“Sasha's going with us, too.”

_Two on one Bertolt... he still could escape with not much problem. He ranked the 3rd, after all._

“And Reiner's going with Jean and Connie.”

_Peculiar._

Bertolt rushed to put on his shirt and sweater while I finished dressing up myself. I considered Armin's words and ensured I got an extra layer to accommodate for the future absence of Bertolt and his temperature. I noticed that Bertolt had made the bed. How nice of him.

Once we were all set, we walked out to meet Armin. I snickered at the look on his face. _Classic Bertolt, just without the sweat._

“We can talk while we go to the stables, can't we?” I asked curtly and Armin nodded.

“I'll go get my uniform,” informed Bertolt before he hurriedly marched towards the stairs.

“It's still fifteen minutes left, actually,” Armin admitted as we started strolling after Bertolt. “I wanted to have a spare moment just in case.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I'm sorry for yesterday. My fault.”

“Oh, please.” I smiled friendly at him. No sarcasm. “It all went like you planned. You can't really pull that _I-am-not-that-smart_ card at me. I know exactly what you are capable of – and I've always liked you for that. You do have some steel spine, Armin.”

“Um, thank you, I guess?” he replied with a sheepish smile.

“So, why is Erwin sending them out, fully aware that none of the other four cadets are able to stand against neither Braun nor Hoover? He wouldn't waste time on checking whether they'd like to run away. Ah... the thing that wouldn't interest me.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind that. Well?”

_Let's see what you came here for, sweetie._

“I've heard they have information on the Ape Titan,” Armin said in a hushed tone. “Its whereabouts, that is.”

“These patrols...” I stopped abruptly and glared at him. “You are using them as bait to lure the motherfucker out?”

“Pretty much.” He nodded.

“So you are in bigger danger than the shifters,” I remarked. “Fucking monkey won't care about human soldiers. Shifters might poke his interest, particularly the ones from the outside.”

“We think the Ape Titan might be from the same settlement,” Armin said. “And that there are more villages like where Reiner, Annie, and Bertolt came from.”

_You are talking a lot, sweetie. But these are things even an idiot would suspect. I'll tell you about the other Walls later, it's of no use for now anyway._

“You have no chances against it, though. It's highly intelligent, and most likely stronger than any other titan of that size. You can't catch it like you did Annie, and you can't fight it.” I said. _They don't know there's that insane scientist inside. The one that started it all. Should I tell them? Ugh, of course I should. I'm here to help, if you can still call it that. Wait... what am I doing? I got so caught up in protecting Bertolt above all else that I forgot why I came here in the first place..._ “Is Erwin still in his office?”

“I think so? The patrols are supposed to loop around the forests for a while before we ride out to that spot, it will take a couple of hours. So I guess he'll stay for the time being.” Armin gulped. “______-san... are there any other shifters here, other than Eren, Bertolt, and Reiner?”

_They don't know about Ymir? But when they were going out for the clean up, I mentioned her... I didn't say she was one. Is he testing me, or he really doesn't know?_

“One that I'm aware of,” I admitted. “But that one will do no harm. They are neutral. I won't compromise them unless necessary, their form won't be of use against the fucking monkey anyway, and I have to talk to them yet. Let them be. Let them enjoy the bit of anonymity they still have.”

“I see. I'll take your word on it.” He clearly wasn't convinced.

We arrived at the courtyard and turned left to the stables. Autumn here was beautiful; trees in various colours covered the horizon, dividing the ground and grass from deep blue sky, and gossamer floated in the air. It smelled wonderful.

“Armin...” I sighed. “I'm here to help. As long as Bertolt and Marco are safe, there is no need to plot around me to get anything. Please, understand that. It's now my world, too, and I'd very much like to keep it alive.” I rubbed my forehead. “I'm tired of all this. Erwin, brass, you, you are fit for those long-lasting strategies and tactics, and weaving the webs, and whatnot. I'm not. I'm tired.” I peered at him. He grew a lot from that little 5'3 boy. He even had an undercut now and tied the longer hair in a small bun. How adorable. “I hope you do understand that.”

Armin opened the gate to one of the stalls and led out a beautiful chestnut mare. I observed as he equipped her.

“I do understand,” he said after a while and looked back at me with a warm smile. I searched for any acting behind it; I found none.

“Thanks.” _Not going to let down my guard. But thanks._ “Be careful. More than usual.”

He finished with the mare and we walked out of the stables, towards the main gate. Sasha, Reiner, Connie and Jean were already there, chatting among each other. They noticed Armin and me from afar and waved to us. It was such a pleasant feeling to wave back.

“Here to give us all lewd goodbye kisses, ______-san?” Reiner wiggled his eyebrows. Jean snorted.

“I can give you a goodbye kick without even moving my leg.” I smiled sweetly and Reiner burst out with his booming laughter. “I hope your patrols are so boring you puke with that boredom until you fall asleep in the saddles and Levi gives you two months of stable duty.”

Armin gave me the look.

“That's just cruel, ______-san,” Sasha groaned. “Can I at least have the kitchen duty instead?”

“Oi, Bertolt!” Reiner called and I turned around. “About time, we are almost late!”

Bertolt was coming, leading a black mare. Comparing to the other horses, she seemed proportional to his height. I bit my lip and admired how he looked in the uniform, the tall boots, the white trousers, the straps, the gear, the jacket, all fitting perfectly on his slender frame. He was back in his old Bertolt aura, nervous, shy, sweaty, and hesitant. It felt like I was witnessing the actual story with my own eyes. He realised he was being watched and made a timid smile. I reached out my hand to give him a specified destination, which he was visibly grateful for. Once he grasped my hand, I was pulled forward and bumped onto his chest with my body before I was enveloped in a hug.

“This is so disgustingly sweet I'm gonna puke,” Jean remarked.

“Fuck off, Horseface,” I mumbled, muffled by Bertolt's jacket. I clutched my fingers on the back of his shirt and breathed in deeply, taking in his scent.

“So, Bertl!” Sasha sounded bright and merry. “Been a long time, hasn't it?”

“Y-yeah.” Bertolt's voice pushed out wavering and unsure. “It's – it's good to – to be back.”

I pushed away slightly to look at them all.

“You guys can go ahead, I'll just make out with him for a second and send him right on your track.” I smirked. Jean rolled his eyes. Armin shot me a warning glare.

“Two minutes. And don't you dare taking anything off. Perverts.” Jean grunted. The rest snorted.

I made sure they rode off enough to not be able to overhear before I grabbed the collar of Bertolt's jacket and pulled him down to shower his face with kisses. He cupped my cheeks and sighed happily.

“This is a good day,” he murmured. I squeezed my eyes shut. _Oh, how I wish I didn't have to say it. You deserve a good day so much. So much._

“Bertolt, listen,” I whispered, not allowing myself to glance at him, not moving my eyelids at all. “That patrol is a cover. The monkey is around. I don't know what they want to do with it, but as hell they are using you as bait.” He shivered. “Please, be careful. Please. Please.”

“I will,” he promised quietly. 

“Please, come back. Come back and find me. Please, find me, please.” I peeked at him for a fraction of a second. What I saw made me stare again, this time not turning away.

_How the fuck is he doing this? Two minutes ago he was scared to the bone at the sight of his damn squad mates... and now there's no tiniest trace of fear in those gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous eyes. That must be pretty much the opposite of how I look right now._

“I will,” he repeated as a small, warm smile appeared on his lips. He kissed me slowly, whole-heartedly, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. He wanted to pull away, but I kept him in place and sealed it with a little peck. Then, I let go.

Bertolt mounted the mare and I watched as he rode away. He looked over his shoulder once, sending me one more smile – and then the forest road took a turn and he disappeared from my sight.

_Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I am helping him._

_Please, come back._

_Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheesy cheesy cheese. And I love it. All the fluff for Bertl the cinnamon roll. I'm actually really happy how this chapter turned out.
> 
> *"The thing that wouldn't interest me" part - see chapter 7, where Erwin dismisses the Reader from his office.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and thank you for all the kudos! <3


	12. Patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin's mind is a maze filled with thousands of thoughts and problems that need solving, and having Bertolt in proximity prompts him to reflect on the past weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is written from Armin's point of view. Warning for a little spoiler from manga chapter... somewhere around 70, I think. It's only a vague appearance description.

The weather was perfect. 

_Sunny, but not blinding, warm enough not to be cold, but cold enough not to get sweaty. Visual range: remarkable, but significantly obscured in the forest. Sound: no abnormalities. Morale..._

Armin glanced over his shoulder at Sasha and Bertolt, who were riding on either side of him, and a bit behind, making a small triangular formation. Sasha smiled and continued her jolly chatter, while Bertolt returned the gaze with crushing awkwardness and a hint of fear.

_… mixed._

Armin sighed and stretched his arms. Two hours passed since they left the headquarters, and those were as uneventful and dull as ______ had grudged on them, but giving the circumstances, Armin thanked for that. Truth to be told, he had been feeling uneasy ever since he had had that conversation with Commander Erwin. It took place on the same day when ______ was moved to the infirmary with an injury that made everyone wonder why the hell wasn't she carried straight for cremation. Armin cringed. The view of the little woman, with a whole upper right quarter of her body missing – including the right half of her head – had stubbornly refused to leave his mind. 

The initial thought of the past talk fell underneath a wave of memories. He remembered the trail of red droplets scattered on the way from her room to the infirmary, and bloody footprints left by Bertolt's bare feet. He remembered how she was carried, safe in Bertolt's arms that did not shudder an inch, even though the giant's reddened eyes clearly indicated how much of a struggle it was to keep himself steady. Bertolt wasn't sobbing; only a stream of tears flowed down his cheeks, mixing into the blood that was smeared all over him.

He remembered being so confused when he joined the small group that was following Bertolt, Hange, Erwin, and Levi. Exchanging shocked and appalled glances with Eren, with Connie, with Sasha. Receiving a worried look from Mikasa and seeing Annie's completely impassive face. Annie was standing at the doorsteps of the headquarters, calmly tracing her eyes after the grim procession. Armin couldn't be sure, but it seemed that she was observing Bertolt rather than the general situation. She scowled when Reiner bumped his elbow at her shoulder while he jumped out of the door to sprint after the group.

 _Of course,_ Armin thought. _She hoped that ______ was dead, but it puzzled her why was she carried to the infirmary. She knew that ______ interrupted their plans. Gravely. That's why she decided to act on her own later._ He peeked at Bertolt again. _And I suspect she was also jealous. To what degree, I can't tell exactly. But she was._

He remembered his attempts at comforting Bertolt. He was pacing the corridor in the infirmary, there and back again, in long steps, making Armin nearly jog to keep up. He was biting his knuckles much in a similar way to Eren when he was intending to transform, and his round-open eyes were glued to the door that separated him from ______.

* * *

“Bertolt,” Armin called for the tenth time, to no avail. Bertolt kept striding to and fro, his teeth clasped onto the knuckle of his index finger so harshly that it must have been a miracle that he hadn't drawn any blood yet. Armin wanted to say something along _it's going to be okay_ , but after witnessing the situation he couldn't think of anything more ridiculous to tell.

“Bertolt, sit down.” Armin gestured towards a bench that stood next to the door and was facing a window. “Bertolt. Bertolt, can you even hear me? Bertolt, please, sit down.”

“It's all my fault,” Bertolt whispered suddenly. He stood still and stared directly into Armin's eyes. His hands were hanging limply at his sides.

“Huh? How so? Don't be stupid.” Armin gave him a comforting smile, took a seat on the bench and patted the surface next to him. “Come on. Sit down.” 

“Armin!” Bertolt's voice broke into a hoarse rasp. “You don't get it. It's all my fucking fault. All... all of it.” His hand flew up to lock tightly onto the lower half of his face, like he wanted to prevent anything from escaping his mouth. He breathed rapidly through his nose and his wide eyes were now cast downwards, to the floor. Armin noticed the blood seeping down his knuckles.

“Bertolt,” he called once more. “Sit down. You are going to hyperventilate, please, sit.”

Bertolt's hold on his mouth loosened, but he didn't let his hand down. He stared at Armin again.

“I did it, Armin,” he rasped. “I...”

“Bertolt, come on, how would you even be able to, Hange told me wha-”

“They are all dead because of me. I did it. _I killed them all._ ”

Armin was about to continue his reassuring. Then his mind registered what Bertolt had just said.

"... what do you mean?”

* * *

Armin caught himself staring unconsciously into the horse mane before him. He shook his head to wake himself up and proceeded to scan the area.

_He told me back then, and I deemed it as a breakdown and stress, maybe some nightmares he had. It was just too ridiculous. And in the end, I didn't believe him. Not until later that day, when the Commander called for me... and I hadn't told anyone. After what Hange told me about ______, I knew it was better to wait. All she had been doing was to help us and the results were obvious. Marco's shape after that incident was a great proof. The wound she sustained was enough to kill a shifter, and yet she got back to full health. Her knowledge of personal details is too vast even for a spy. Out of the options to explain her person would be that either she's telling the truth and she's... from the outside, or she is an advanced in some way shifter – and more than that, she would also have to have an ability to read minds._

Armin pulled out his canteen and took a swing.

 _But if the former is true... I wonder if she's actually a character in the same story, one big story, and it's just another part of it. Another chapter._ He smiled gloomily. _Now that would be twisted. But it'd be still so much better than the latter option._

“Sasha, take the lead,” he said, turning to her. They switched places, Sasha was riding in the front, and Armin rode side by side with Bertolt, four feet of space between them. Bertolt gulped.

“She told you, didn't she?” Armin asked, making sure that it didn't sound like an accusation.

“Yes,” Bertolt said quietly, tightening his grip on the bridle. He glanced at Armin without turning his head. His face grew pale and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

 _He's so like... like him. Like it's all not true._ It was a painful thought in Armin's mind. _It's so hard to believe._

“She shouldn't have.” Armin sighed sadly.

“What?” Bertolt turned his face this time. “How is that? We are- we are going to- to- and I should- I should go blind? That- that's insane.”

“That was exactly the point, Bertolt.” Armin dropped his sight to the ground. “To see your reactions.”

“This is for the better.” Sasha stared at Armin over her shoulder. “I didn't like it at all. It's too dangerous, we all need to be prepared.”

“That leaves Reiner,” Armin mumbled. He straightened his back. “Bertolt, what will Reiner do?”

“I...” Bertolt hesitated. “I'm not sure. It kind of depends.”

“What do you mean?”

“Reiner... he... hasn't been well.”

“Ahhh...” Armin sighed. “So that's where it came from.”

“Huh?” Bertolt frowned.

“I noticed how sometimes he seemed... absolutely different. Like there was an entirely another person with the same face. That's how he copes, doesn't he? A split personality?” Armin rubbed his forehead.

“Armin, could we talk about something nice, just for a moment?” Sasha whined. “We've been over all this a hundred times, milling this again won't bring anything, and it's going to get serious later anyway. And I'd kill for a nice sandwich.”

“Oh, I have two,” Bertolt suddenly spoke up. “I hadn't had, um, time to eat before we left, so I took some with me. I can give you one.”

Armin smiled.

“Aww, Bertl! You're the best!” Sasha squealed as she rowed to the two companions and reached for the little package. Bertolt went pale again and for a moment he looked like he was about to cry.

 _Considering things, I probably shouldn't,_ Armin thought, _but I do feel sorry for him._

“Sho,” Sasha said with her mouth filled. “How ah' 'ingsh wi' ______-shan?”

“Um...” Bertolt's voice shot up to a squeak level. “G-good?”

Sasha swallowed the bite and cooed.

“You are so adorable, the both of you!”

 _Adorable? You haven't heard them in the morning_ , Armin chuckled in thought.

“Armin, what do you think?” Sasha turned to him. “Their children will be his height or hers? I mean...” She giggled. “It's hell of a difference.”

Bertolt covered his blushing face with his hands, but he couldn't hide his burning ears.

“Watch where your horse is going!” Sasha cackled and Bertolt sent his hands back to the bridle in panic. Armin couldn't help but smile wider at his flustered, but somewhat happy expression.

_As far as I know, he might have been forced to do it. That breakdown he had in the dungeon... And what ______ had asked when Eren deemed why they are enemies... Bertolt, and Reiner, and... Annie. They are nearly as much at fault as a sword. They were shaped into this, bent, beaten, sharpened, prepared. Like a thing, an animal, not a person._

A sudden flash of a memory hit Armin's mind. Military court. Darius Zackly. Eren in the centre of the hall, beaten up by Levi. Levi's words.

_You have to be disciplined, trained like a dog, not a person._

Armin bit his lips. He felt a wave of cold creep up his body.

_It was for a show, to get Eren to the Survey Corps... but how much of it turned out to be true later?_

_Soldiers..._

_Warriors..._

“... hope we get a day off soon, I'd love to take ______-san to the town, she said she's good with a needle, maybe she could make me one of those dresses she mentioned, the traditional ones in her parts! They are called kimono, doesn't the name alone sound awesome?”

“Y-yeah,” Armin said, realising that Sasha had been talking about ______ the past couple of minutes. “Wait... when did you talk to her so much?”

“That dress thing was at the showers,” Sasha explained. “When hers broke down the other day in Summer, and I was on the watch for her. I wonder where did she get that awful scar on her-”

“Sasha,” Armin groaned, his cheeks dusting a little pink. “I'm pretty sure you can keep at least _some_ of the details to yourself. Particularly _this_ kind of details.”

“Armin...” Bertolt lifted up his chin a tiny bit and brought up a timid smile. “You should talk to ______ about sea.”

“About sea?”

“She used to live by the sea.”

“Live... by the sea?” Armin's eyes shimmered. “What's it like?”

“He's just told you to ask her!” Sasha giggled. “Bertl, you broke Armin.”

“I'm sorry!” Bertolt squeaked, nervously staring at Armin. “I'm really sorry!”

“Oi, relax!” Sasha patted him on the shoulder. “I didn't mean it like that. I think you made him sort of happy.”

“I did?” Bertolt whispered in disbelief.

“Of course, look at him!”

Armin shivered and his mind floated back into the reality, but it wasn't the exchange between his two companions that stirred him.

“Sasha, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

All three of them fell silent and the sounds of their surroundings came into the foreground. Clatter of the hooves and their gear, the wind, the birds.

And then there it was again – a distant call. Bertolt wasn't sure, but Sasha's hearing of a hunter had no doubts.

“That was a call for help,” she uttered. All three of them exchanged bewildered glances.

“We need to check it out, it can be one of the patrols,” Armin said in a wavering voice. "But... they could have fired a flare, right?"

The scream reached them the third time and now even Bertolt was sure.

“Let's go,” Sasha agreed.

* * *

It was a part of the forest that was rarely visited due to the swamps appearing after rains that lasted long after a change of weather, even weeks into a drought. The road, however, was as stable and firm as anywhere else – the only problem was that with those swamps, striding off the path was not a good idea, and that meant there were only two directions for safe travel. And Armin did not like that at all.

“That's Jean's patrol area,” he remarked. “But there's no sign of them. If they went along the route, they should be somewhere nearby at this time. Anything, Sasha?”

“No,” she replied in a worried tone. “The road looks like it was swept.”

“Swept?” He repeated sharply. “You mean like someone was covering tracks?”

“Kind of...” she looked at him unsteadily.

“HELP!”

All three of them jolted in the saddles.

“That- that came from off the road,” Bertolt rasped.

“And whose voice was that?” Sasha whispered.

“Tie the horses and switch to the gear,” Armin commanded.

_This is bad._

They ran through the thicket, splashing mud, until they reached the taller trees. It wasn't a good spot for the manoeuvre gear; the trees were full thick of long, thin branches, and even the tallest ones didn't provide enough possibilities for a good lookout.

“THERE!” Sasha exclaimed.

 _A clearing... no_ , Armin reflected. _It's not a clearing... those tress... they were pulled off and broken, that's a titan's doing. But there's no sign of a titan, and no sign of anything indicating there was a titan corpse, not even the smell..._

A man was laying by the line of trees, his clothes were all bloody and he was missing his left forearm. His face was obscured by blonde hair that had white strands of old age in it, but Armin could make out that the stranger had a short beard.

“Sir, are you all right?! What happened?!” Sasha bellowed as they neared.

_No... what is a human doing here, there's nothing nearby..._

They landed.

The man looked up. Sun reflected in his round glasses.

“Sir, wha-”

“ARMIN, DON'T-!” Bertolt screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering Sasha keeping watch on The Reader - you might remember that at the very beginning, various characters were keeping watch on The Reader, until she herself asked for Bertolt to be the constant guard.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and thank you so much for the new kudos and bookmarks! <3


	13. Missing in action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend the afternoon with Marco while both of you anxiously wait for the return of the expedition. Clouds are gathering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood and gore.

I watched Erwin's backside disappear in the staircase as I slowly paced in the same direction. Unlike him, I wasn't in a hurry. Time was most of what I had at the moment.

_It's a nice backside, truth to be told._

I laid out the new bits of information I had gathered. About the Ape Titan in particular. I briefly mentioned the six outer Walls, but just as I had expected, Erwin waved it off for the time being – it was of no use in the current situation anyway. As soon as I finished talking, he excused me and we marched out of his office. He locked the door and stormed down the hallway.

I rubbed my forehead and glanced outside the window. Soldiers were simmering around the courtyard, horses were lead out of the stables, Hange and Erwin were already waiting by the main gate.

_I hope they get back in one piece. Breathing._

I shuffled downstairs, determined to finally eat something. My stomach growled. By the time I reached the ground level, the courtyard was desolated, save for a couple of soldiers that were not going out with the expedition. I passed the open front door and made my way to the mess hall.

I realised that I had never been there alone before. Before I asked to have Bertolt as my fixed guard, I used to sit there with anyone that kept the watch on me at that moment. The hall felt much bigger, colder, and uninviting now that I had no one by my side. I crossed my arms defensively and hunched my shoulders forward. It was just after lunch and it was mostly empty – but I noticed a familiar mop of black hair by the window. I was saved from sitting alone and feeling very uncomfortable. I approached the sitting man and gently tapped his shoulder. He flinched and turned around.

“Oh, ______-san! I haven't heard you coming. Are you okay? You look really worried. Did something happen?” Marco's face went through shades of surprise and joy straight to concern.

“Hey, Marco. Lots of things.” I scowled. “But I'd rather eat something before talking about it, is there anything left?”

“I think so, they all ran out all of a sudden, so I suspect that some haven't managed to get their share.” He looked really concerned about that as well. “I'll bring you some! It's rather special today, I don't remember the last time we had fish!”

“Fish?” I frowned as Marco stood up, taking his emptied tray with him. “I thought this place is rather far from any breeding ponds, and I haven't seen many fish in the river.”

“It's getting colder, so it's easier to get through some smoked fish,” Marco said, setting down a full tray before me. He sat in front of me. “Not that we get them often, they are still pricey.” He peered around intently before he leaned in. “I think it's a treat from the Queen,” he whispered conspiratorially. I tilted my head and laughed.

_He really is too adorable for his own safety._

“The food here is heavy and bland, I'm gaining weight like hell,” I remarked, tearing off the soft, darkened skin. It was a nice piece of a smoked carp and it smelled wonderful. “But this is fantastic. I missed fish so much.”

“Me too. I love fish.” Marco flashed his signature one-hundred-Watt grin.

“Do you now...” I murmured, taking a bite of the fresh roll. “I knew someone who loved fish, too. You remind me of them a lot, actually.”

I glanced up from my plate to meet Marco's suddenly saddened gaze. 

“They were important, weren't they?” he asked.

“You are too good at reading people, you freckled pup.” I smiled briefly. “Bet you haven't heard that one before.” I sighed. “Yeah. She was.”

Marco scratched under his nose awkwardly.

“You are going to irritate your skin and get pimples if you keep doing that.”

He immediately withdrew his hand.

“I swear you sound like my mother.” He grinned again. “She's a lovely, sweet person, of course,” he reflected at once. “She used to say exactly the same. Except... I kind of got that from her. My grandmother said once that when my mother was my age, she used to do just the same.”

I watched him for a moment before I turned back to my plate, a small sad smile lingering on my lips. I finished the fish far too soon for my taste. I gulped in the water and stood up to carry the tray back. Marco got up as well and followed me.

“I'm not complaining about it, but why did you stay behind?” I asked.

“I still get dizzy. After... you know.” He bit his lips. “I was frequently light-headed the first time, too, and it passed after a week or two, so I have to wait. Not a good idea to fly around like that.” He chuckled.

I placed the tray by the sink and we left the mess hall. I grinned to myself and hummed a silly song:

_Sakana sakana sakana_  
_Sakana wo taberu to_  
_Atama atama atama_  
_Atama ga yoku naru_

“Huh?” Marco smiled, surprised and amused at once.

“It's a song about eating fish, and how it makes you smart and stuff.” I laughed.

Marco's eyes widened. _No wonder_ , I thought. _Usually I look like I have a stick so far up my ass that it pokes out of my mouth, and here I'm going with this idiotic thing._

“Can you teach me?” he said. “Please.”

Five minutes later we were strolling through the courtyard towards the sparring grounds, singing in Japanese and laughing our asses off. Marco, of course, did not understand a word and his pronunciation was far off, which made me laugh even more.

“Why are we here exactly?” Marco asked as we paced the dusty ground. “There are nicer places to take a walk around here.”

“I want to learn stuff.” I shrugged. “Since I'm here, I can at least make an effort to be able to defend myself. Somewhat. My condition's shit, though. I haven't worked out for years.”

We stopped at the far edge of the training ground, right next to the forest. Marco tilted his head to the side and measured me thoughtfully.

“To begin with, you're not dressed for that,” he remarked calmly. I smirked.

“You bet? Just watch.”

When Armin informed that Bertolt would be out for the day, I decided to take my time and climb trees in the forest – being the agile beast, I was particularly fond of that. Hence I had a part of comfortable trousers under my skirts and all I had to do was to untie the knot and take the skirts off. I reached my hands to the bow and without any warning, I pulled at it. Marco yelped and turned his back to me. His ears burned red. I burst out cackling.

“So scared to see me without clothes?” I snickered. “You've just said I'm like your mother.”

“That does _not_ make things better,” Marco replied with a bit of panic in his voice.

“Oh come on, do you really think I'd strip naked here? I have fucking trousers underneath. I was initially going to climb some trees. All right, you can look.” I sighed theatrically, walking over to hang my skirts on the hedge. Marco turned around to face me, great relief all over his blushed features. I scratched my nose and stared at him expectantly.

“Well... we should start with warming up, pulled muscles are not welcome,” he announced.

“I suppose I can manage through that,” I mumbled.

The next ten minutes we spent on stretching and doing sit-ups, squats and things that I don't even know the names of. While Marco looked just as tired as he was simply sitting and doing nothing the whole time, I was already sweaty and I had to take a moment to calm my breath down... a little.

“You okay?” Marco smiled at me warmly.

“Yeah. Like I've said. Years.” I snorted.

“All right. Let's start with the basics – I'll try to grab you, and I'll show you how to avoid that.”

Ten seconds later Marco's arm was under my chin and my back bumped against his stomach. The next moment, my teeth were on Marco's forearm and I was set free.

“Well...” Marco bit his lip. “I guess biting is one way to do that. Except, imagine if I was wearing the uniform instead of my civilian clothes. You'd have a tough time biting through the leather jacket. Not to mention that not everyone would let go.”

“I just used the opportunity.” I shrugged. “I'd not do this if I knew I'd shatter my teeth. Unless there was nothing else to do, I reckon.”

“And what would you do if you couldn't bite?”

“I'd kick you in a place that you really wouldn't like me to. I'm quite agile, you know.”

“I can imagine,” Marco said flatly. “Let's try this again, and this time try doing what I told you.”

Fifteen minutes later I was ready to fall over without anyone attacking me. I bent forward and rested my hands on my knees, panting and watching a drop of sweat that dispatched itself from the tip of my nose and splashed on the ground. _I'm going to be so dead tomorrow. My own muscles will murder me in revenge._

“One more time,” I groaned. “And then we'll call it a day.”

“All right.” Marco gave me an approving smile, but just as he stepped forward to take the fighting stance, he blinked rapidly a couple of times and stumbled forwards. He scowled and rubbed his forehead intensively. I skipped to him and caught him under his elbow.

“You got dizzy,” I said matter-of-factly. “So I'll call it a day now. Sit down.”

“Nah, we can go on back to the castle.” He waved it off.

“We can argue about it for a while, but it'll end up with you sitting down, so save yourself the time.” I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, mum.” Marco stuck out his tongue.

We plopped down with our backs leaning on the hedge. There was nothing to watch before us, only the large, plain, bare patch of the training field, and the edge of the forest, with the castle to the left. No clouds to play _this-reminds-me-of_. The ground was dry and small wisps of dust rose from it under every stronger gust of the warm wind that broke into the area when we were sparring.

“I hope Bertolt is fine,” I muttered after my breath returned to its regular pace. “I hope they all are.”

Marco picked up my hand and squeezed it in both of his hands. I tilted my head to look at him and received a warm, reassuring grin. All of his face was brightened with it, his chocolate eyes shimmered, his cheeks had dimples, and the freckles made it ten times merrier. It was like he had it in his genes.

 _Maybe it's like the Ackerman clan,_ I snickered in thought. _The Bott clan has been making people feel better for generations._

“They are amazing soldiers. They have Armin, and there's nothing that Armin can't get through with his mind. If there is anyone who can make it, it's them.” He let go of my hand and stretched his back. “I'm ready to go. This ground's a bit too cold to sit on it for long. Come on.”

I grabbed my folded skirts and we sauntered towards the castle.

“Marco... what made you think of Bertolt this way?” I asked quietly when we passed the back gate. “When I heard you there, in the dungeon... it was something so unexpected, so unimaginable that for a moment I thought it was my exhaustion speaking, not you. You know, you wouldn't be-”

“Yeah, I get where you're coming from with this.” Marco shuddered. “I can see what you mean. Um... truth to be said, I've known for a long time that there was something about him that... um, did not match anything I could suspect. It wasn't anything tangible, only a hunch, and a poor one at that. It did feel like a big, big trauma, but I wasn't entirely convinced by the origin he and Reiner told us about back then. Mostly because of how Reiner was.”

“Reiner's a whole another story,” I agreed.

“As for Bertolt... there was that thing in – in Trost. I was in proximity of him, Annie, and Reiner on the roof and I overheard a bit of their discussion. Not intentionally, of course!” He chuckled awkwardly, like the sheer possibility made him ashamed. “I didn't know at the time what it was about, but... it was...”

* * *

The smoke, the blood, the vapours oozing from the decomposing titans, the bodies, the screams and whistling of the gear cables, the seldom, disturbing grunts emitting from the throats of the titans: all that hung in the air, overwhelming, suffocating. Rubble, chunks of the stone and wooden walls, and shattered glass, and there was laundry still hanging in one courtyard – freshly washed clothes soaked in blood.

Marco stood still on the roof, staring at those shirts and bed sheets, hypnotised.

“Reiner, it's about time.”

“I know.”

Annie's and Reiner's voices pulled Marco back into the gruesome reality. They were standing somewhere behind the corner of the upper floor, hidden from his eyes, but there was no mistake, those voices definitely belonged to them.

“Bertolt, you all right?” That was Reiner again.

“Leave me alone.” Bertolt sounded... dry, emotionless, but not in a stern way. More like he was desperately trying to shield himself from breaking down.

“Oi, you know we have-”

“ _Leave me alone!_ ” It wasn't quite a yell, but still, it was unusual to hear Bertolt raise his voice, especially at his best friend. “Look – look at this! Look at this! This is what we have to do?! And you ask me if I'm fucking _all right_?!”

“Bertolt-” Annie's impassive voice had a softer tint to it.

“I'm never going to be _all right_. This is... this...”

“None of us will.” Annie said. “But we need to keep up. You know that.”

“Come on, Bertolt. We are almost there.” Reiner's voice was reassuring, but Marco caught a glimpse of disbelief. Reiner didn't believe in his own tone. “There's so much behind us already. Just a little bit more and we can-”

“Reiner, stop.” Annie cut in. “You are talking too much. We need to get going.”

“I'm nearly out of gas,” Bertolt said.

Marco decided it's safe to come out now.

“Hey, guys, any of you have some gas? I'm out.” Marco asked, scratching under his nose. He didn't notice when Annie and Reiner exchanged glances.

* * *

We spent the early afternoon sitting on the doorsteps and talking about our interests, favourite things, anything to keep ourselves from going insane with worry. The sun was lazily making its way down towards the West. The warm wind pleasantly played with our hair and clothes, and we could watch the colourful leaves fly around. Marco, of course, was very interested in anything concerning the big outside world, and even though I didn't know much about theirs, I could talk about my own, deeming it couldn't be much different. Some of the soldiers would even stop by to listen with great longing on their faces. Some would ask questions, some would move on to their chores with a sad, but hopeful sigh.

But with every hour that passed, our anxiety grew. It was well past six when we skipped to the mess hall and came back with the dinner to sit again at the doorsteps and wait. We didn't talk any more, only locked our eyes onto the main gate with increasing anticipation; the darker the surroundings faded after the sunset, the worse we felt.

* * *

The bell rang half past seven when the soldiers on the watch shouted that they had sighted the returning expedition. My heart fluttered on the verge of bursting apart when I jumped to my feet, Marco alongside me. We barely made two steps when he stopped with a scowl on this face, spreading his arms to grip onto anything. I leaped over to hold him up and that's how we made our way to the main gate, tiny me supporting the towering freckled soldier boy.

We saw the light of the torches between the trees before the conduct came into view. Quiet. No words were passed around, not even a murmur, except for the groaning of the wounded. A lot of wounded. I spotted Bertolt from afar – thank god for the torches and his height. I took a deep breath and leaned on Marco.

“He's alive,” I whispered.

But I could not miss the fact that there were now far fewer soldiers than at the midday. When they came closer, I began searching for familiar faces. I saw Sasha first, then Connie, Reiner, Mikasa. Mikasa was sitting in one of the carts, and when one of the soldiers moved aside, I saw Eren sitting beside her.

_Armin. Armin must be in that cart. He's hurt. Armin, what happened? Armin, please, be safe. Be alive._

The survivors poured into the courtyard, dismounting their horses, leading them to the stables, helping their lighter wounded comrades to get to the infirmary. Five carts were parked, two at the infirmary doorsteps. Three went the opposite way. Eren and Mikasa were on one of the former.

“I can't see Jean,” Marco mumbled. I tightened my grip on his arm.

_Neither can I. Please, let him not be on one of those three wagons._

“Bertolt!” I yelped. He was leading his horse and stopped abruptly to turn around to peer at me. A light shade of relief flooded over the horror and despair on his face. He asked Sasha to take his horse and marched towards me, each step faster, until he was almost running.

“I can stand on my own already, thank you,” Marco said quietly. “I'll go looking for Jean.”

I squeezed his arm once more and let go. Then I turned to Bertolt and skipped forward as well, crashing onto his chest after I barely took four steps. He lifted me up and hugged me tightly, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He was breathing heavily and his heart was racing. I pressed my cheek to his hair and closed my eyes. He smelled of sweat, blood, and horse.

“Are you all right?” I asked in a wavering voice.

“I'm... not wounded.”

My face constricted slightly. I ran my fingers through his hair; a big part of it was sticky and stiff with dried blood.

“Come on,” I murmured and placed a little peck on his cheekbone. It tasted salty. “We need to get you cleaned up.” He nodded meekly and stood me back on the ground.

“I got you all dirty,” he muttered guiltily. “That's the shirt from your home. I got it dirty.”

“It'll wash off, don't worry.” I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled him towards the entrance, but then my eyes crossed Eren's. “Bertolt... what – what happened to Armin?”

Bertolt's breath hitched.

 _I shouldn't leave him alone now,_ I thought. _But I don't think bringing him to see Armin is a good idea either... what should I do?_

“Bertolt, listen to me.” I held his hand in both of mine. “Stand here for a minute. Don't move an inch, I'll be right back, okay? I'm only going to check on Armin, you will see me all the time. I'm not going to disappear anywhere. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered. I brought up his bloodied hand to my lips before I released him and ran towards the wagon.

“Armin?” I called, searching for answers in Eren's eyes. There was pain in them. Not the physical one. I glanced over the low wall of the cart and sucked in a breath. Armin was the only wounded that remained in this one, the rest was transported into the infirmary already.

“Oh god,” I wailed. “Armin, oh god-”

Armin seemed awake. His huge blue eyes were staring absently into the starry sky, stream of salty tears running down the sides of his face into his hair. Mikasa was gently holding his right hand, Eren gripped the other.

Armin's legs ended at his knees.

“Please. ______-san, please...” Mikasa's nearly inaudible voice shuddered and broke. “Help him. Please.”

I took a deep, deep breath and crawled onto the cart, crept to Armin's right side and gave Mikasa a calming gaze. I peered at Bertolt, who was watching me intently. I glanced at broken Eren. Then I stared at Armin and leaned down to stroke his pale, greyish cheek. He gulped and looked back at me. His eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by ill, hollow shadows. His parted lips were dry and chapped.

“Bertolt...” I turned to call him. “I need you here. Please, come to me.”

Once I was safely held in Bertolt's arms, my face scrunched in deep focus. It was one thing to get the effects on the wave of emotions, but to do it so consciously was an entirely different matter.

* * *

I was comfortably tucked in Bertolt's grip and carried into the castle, trying to ignore how my legs began hurting when growing back, something completely new concerning this ability of mine. It wasn't any terrible ache, only dull and slightly annoying, but it surely was there.

Marco bumped into us as we made our way up to the first floor. His face was deathly pale and his hands were shaking.

“There are ten people declared missing in action,” he informed. “One of them is Jean.”

_Missing in action. That's no good in Survey Corps._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do sing that MMD song about fish when I'm in an up phase. I'm dead serious.  
> I promise there's going to be way more interaction with Bertolt in the next chapter again. I miss him.  
> Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading and sticking with me and this story, I love writing it so much <3


	14. No words needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to take a breath. There are horrors and blood and difficulties waiting for The Reader, but that's in the morning - and that morning is still hours away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. Fluff and lemon lemon lemon. Little swearing. You may skip if you are not into that, it won't affect the plot.

I helped Bertolt to remove his dirty and damaged uniform. Truth to be said, I did most of the work while he stood still and seemed to be unable to move after my legs were back to normal and I could keep my balance on my own. It was like he was holding himself in line only until he was sure I felt better. _Oh, Bertolt, you poor, poor thing..._

I finished unclasping his harness and it fell to the floor. He gazed down at me sadly, silently. I unbuttoned his shirt and placed a lingering kiss over his heart, making him sigh. He bent forward to take off his boots and let me unbuckle his trousers before I pulled them down to his ankles along with his underwear. I could almost sense his exhaustion under the pads of my fingers.

He lit up a bit when I began undressing myself and he made an attempt to help me with it, but I reached out my hand, wordlessly asking him to wait. Eventually, we both stood naked in the bathroom. I closed the distance between us and pressed myself close, as close as possible, wrapped my arms around him, pressed my cheek to his chest to listen to his heart. He surrounded me with his arms and hunched to rest his chin on the top of my head.

After what felt both like long years and short seconds at the same time, I parted to get the water running. For once at the right time, the temperature was satisfyingly warm and I pulled Bertolt in, watching as his features relaxed slightly. He closed his eyes and let the stream wash over him. My heart swelled at the sight – every bit of peace on Bertolt's face was worth everything.

“Kneel,” I hummed and began washing his hair after he obliged. As usual, he hugged my waist and pressed his face to my chest. I observed as he fought to reduce the tension in his muscles and I moved my hands to massage his shoulders. Bertolt shivered and tightened his grip on me. I gulped.

“Hey, Bertolt...” I murmured.

“Mm?”

“I trust you, too.”

He gasped and flinched to ogle me wide-eyed, until the remains of soap flowed down and stung his eyes. He hissed and closed them back.

“Just wait a moment,” I said with a smile that echoed in my voice as I rinsed his hair and made sure his face was clean. “It's safe now.”

He gazed at me. His eyes were red, I wasn't sure if it was because of the soap or not. He reached up and cupped my face with one hand, the other travelled to the back of my neck to pull me down. My eyelids slid closed. I expected a heated kiss and parted my lips in anticipation, but in vain. I glanced at Bertolt and met his stare filled with sheer affection and gratitude. I pecked his forehead and smiled wider.

“Come on, let's get cleaned up before the water runs cold.”

 _There will be time to worry tomorrow_ , I thought. _Let's make the rest of this day the good day Bertolt wanted when he went on this damned patrol._

We lay in bed naked, facing each other. No words were needed. I cupped Bertolt's cheek with one hand to stroke his skin with my thumb, up and down, gently. He turned his face and pecked the inside of my palm before he scooped my hand in his to move it to the back of his neck as he pulled me in until our bodies were flush. No words were needed when our noses grazed each other as our faces inched closer and when our parted lips brushed together so tenderly that it almost seemed like a touch of a breath. My fingers dived in between his wet hair and I hooked my leg over his hip and we finally, finally kissed, slowly, carefully, patiently, reverently. I ran the tip of my tongue over his bottom lip and was granted access to explore his mouth. I caressed his tongue with mine and was rewarded with a quiet groan that resonated deep in his throat. My grip on his hair tightened and I snaked my other hand underneath to get a hold at the nape of his neck.

No words were needed when his hand glided to my hip and further to the sensitive junction between my buttock and my thigh where he dug in the tips of his fingers and proceeded to massage the area. I mewled into the kiss and felt him smile lightly against my lips. I bit and gently pulled his bottom lip teasingly with my teeth and grabbed his hand to place it on my breast. He began kneading it and kissing the other while he softly pushed me onto my back and hovered over me. I embraced his hips between my thighs and I sighed when we stirred to grind against each other. Blush crept up my cheeks when I felt his erection rub at my crotch. I cupped his face and brought him down for another heartfelt kiss, open-mouthed and slow, swallowing every moan that threatened to disturb the silence that was only broken by nearly inaudible, rhythmical sound of skin grazing skin.

I pulled back and our pants surfaced in the chilly air. I stroked Bertolt's face with my thumbs, smoothing delicately over the sunken shadows under his eyes. A small, solicitous smile spread on my lips before I kissed those shadows tenderly. No words were needed with the look in his gorgeous green eyes when he locked them with mine and he moved one of his hands to lift my chin and run his thumb along my bottom lip. I pecked its pad and let my arms travel down his chest and over his ribs to settle with my hands on his shoulder blades. I pushed my hips up to make him brush against my wet folds in the next sway. Bertolt barely muffled a gasp when his tip slid over them. His hand left my chin to dig its fingers into the bottom of my thigh. He sought for permission in my eyes. He saw the fiery glint in them and he wasted no time. I arched my back and opened my mouth in a silent whimper when he sank into me until our hips were flush.

If there was ever anything really worth being called lovemaking, this was it. Quiet, patient, affectionate, nearly worshipping. We did our best to maintain the eye contact, but the further we were gone, the more difficult it proved. The air didn't seem chilly any more, and even if it did, there was no way any of us could possibly pay any attention.

“Bertolt...!” I gasped between all the panting. “Bertolt, oh Bertolt... Bertolt...”

He hummed in a strained tone and leaned down to capture my lips in an exuberant, messy kiss as his thrusts picked up a feral pace. I clang to him for my dear life, gasping with each rock until I couldn't keep my voice in and a loud moan escaped my throat. I could imagine what that sound did to him when he dug his fingernails into my hip and pressed his mouth to my collarbone.

No words were needed when he caught my hand and entwined our fingers, when his lips brushed over the top of my palm before he pinned my hand to the mattress above my head. I groaned as the tension in my abdomen uncoiled abruptly and I shook intensely, raking deep scratches on Bertolt's back with my free hand. Bertolt moaned into my skin and ran his fingers back to my hip, speeding up and pressing himself as hard as he could.

“H-aaaahh, ahhh...” he panted, repeating my name like a prayer. I buried my fingers in his damp, dishevelled hair and my breath ghosted over his ear.

“Bertolt,” I whispered, managing not to wince when he pounded into my now over-sensitive body. “Bertolt...” I nibbled his earlobe and he bit his lips to muffle a gasp. I felt him stiffen and then he shuddered, pouring into me, panting and groaning my name.

No words were needed when we rolled over and I rested my head under his chin, getting accustomed again to the hollow feeling after he pulled out. I pecked his jaw and got up, motioning for him to stay in bed. I skipped to the bathroom to clean myself up and brought back with me a wet towel to tidy up the mess on the bedsheets and Bertolt himself as well. Then I threw the rag carelessly on the floor and crept under the covers to snuggle to him. Bertolt turned onto his side and wrapped me tightly in his arms. He buried his face in my still wet hair and inhaled deeply.

I thought no words were needed, until he took one more long breath and he softly whispered into my hair.

“I love you.”

My eyes shot open wide and I inhaled sharply.

“It's... it's okay,” he added sadly, obviously taking my reaction the wrong way. “Take your time. I mean, if you want.”

I crawled up to his level. It was dark, so I couldn't be sure, but he blushed furiously and refused to look at me. His eyes were glistening with tears.

“Want what?” I growled, cupping his cheeks and turning his face to me. There was so much sadness and anguish in those gorgeous eyes that my heart shrunk. “Bertolt,” I whispered on verge of desperation. “Bertolt, what are you thinking, you idiot beanpole?” A single tear trailed down his cheek and onto my hand. “I love you, too, of course I do. Is it that hard to see?”

Bertolt shook his head. He pulled me on top of him and hid his face in the crook of my neck.

 _He didn't break down and cry like after what I said after that party,_ I thought. _Maybe I really do help him._ A warm wave of relief and happiness flowed around my veins.

His chest shook and I thought he did sob, contrary to my hopes, but I glanced up and realised it was a short laugh. I frowned.

“What's so fucking funny now?”

“ _Idiot beanpole_?” Bertolt's voice broke in a snort.

I dropped my head to bump my forehead on his clavicle.

“Please, forget that. I beg you.”

I could sense laugh bubbling in his chest before it burst out. Bertolt tilted his chin up and laughed aloud like I've never seen him before. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched in wonder. He glanced at my stunned expression with joyfully narrowed eyes with little wrinkles in the outer corners and a new wave of laughter erupted between his lips. It was the most wondrous and unexpected sound I've ever heard.

I smiled whole-heartedly and leaned down to pepper his face with kisses.

“I take it back,” I murmured, peering at him tenderly. “I'm gonna keep calling you that if only I can see you this happy. You idiot beanpole.”

Bertolt snorted again and cuddled me closely, pressing his lips to my temple.

“I don't even want to think how things would look if you weren't here,” he whispered sadly.

I reached out to cover his mouth with my fingers.

“Then don't. Simple as that. Focus on what you have now.” I scowled. “I think we've just set a new record of being cheesy.”

“And you love it,” Bertolt mumbled teasingly.

“You fucking beanpole.”

“Not helping.” He laughed.

I let out an amused sigh and entangled my fingers in his nearly dry hair. He hummed contently when I stroked his head and he caressed my cheek in reply. The bell in the distance outside rang nine times.

“Go to sleep, Bertolt,” I purred. I left a gentle kiss on his lips and rolled off him onto the bed only to snuggle up to his side. “I'm not going anywhere.” He turned us around and my back was pressed to his chest in the familiar manner. I grasped the arm he threw over my side and entwined our fingers before I cradled it to my breast. I exhaled calmly and closed my eyes, letting Bertolt's scent surround me to magnify the sense of safety.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmured on the verge of sleep. I squeezed his hand and smiled lightly.

I listened to his breath until it slowed down and evened, and his grip on my fingers loosened a fraction – but far from letting go.

Some short while after, I drifted off as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a particularly shitty day today, so I wrote this. Nothing really happens to forward the plot, sorry for that.  
> I really love writing this fic, though <3 I have another with Armin in progress, I must say...


	15. The hand in the forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day starts sour. One of Erwin's plans comes to fruition, and Bertolt reveals some of his secrets...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Reader is in a shitty mood, so there's a lot of swearing.

I knew the day was going to be gloomy before I even opened my eyes. I could hear rain hitting the window and wind whistling in the draughty windowsill, the door, the corridor... everywhere. I wasn't cold, but I shivered at the sound and burrowed my back deeper in Bertolt's arms. Something struck me as odd and I peeked with one eye to get a confirmation: indeed, we were laying on the opposite side than we were at when we fell asleep. Like a mirror.

_It's contagious. His sleeping habits are contagious._

The events of the past day crept back into my consciousness and I whole-heartedly wished I could forget its horrors for at least one more while, to simply enjoy the good times and the current moment and feel comfortable and happy. I allowed myself to listen to Bertolt's slow, calm breath and feel his steady pulse in his wiry arm that I was hugging to my chest. This much I could still do.

“I'm sorry,” Bertolt mumbled.

“Hmm?” I frowned and tried to turn around to look at him, but his grip on me, albeit not tight, was too stiff. “Bertolt?”

“I'm sorry... sorry... please... I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” he was muttering this over and over and I realised he was talking in his sleep. “I'm sorry... sorry... please... I beg you... I'm sorry...”

“Bertolt,” I whispered, tilting my chin down to kiss his hand while massaging it soothingly. “Bertolt, wake up.”

“Please... sorry... sorry... please... please... I didn't... want... please... I'm sorry...”

“Bertolt,” I repeated louder. “Wake up.”

“I'm sorry...” His voice, still very quiet, started shaking. “I'm sorry... sorry... Annie... I'm sorry...”

I clenched my teeth. I bent my neck forward a little more and bit into his arm. Strongly. Bertolt yelped and in his first reaction, he wanted to retract it close to his chest. But, well, I was on the way. All the air was squeezed out of my lungs with an awful wheeze.

“Fuck! I'm sorry!” Bertolt let go and then he turned me around to peer at me in panic. “Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry! Are you all right? Are you in pain?!”

I inhaled like someone who was just pulled out of water after almost drowning. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes and I blinked to get rid of them.

“I'm okay,” I muttered. “Good morning. It's rather shitty, though.” _And I'm in an even shittier mood._

He stared at me with utter worry.

“I'm sorry, I didn't want... please, are you really all right?”

“I'm fine,” I snarled. I glanced at all the guilt and hurt in his eyes and my stern expression melted. “I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn't, so I bit you. I had it coming. You didn't hurt me, I was only startled.”

Bertolt tightened his lips and nodded. He still looked like a kicked puppy. I leaned forward to kiss his nose, and then his lips. It was so weird to hear him repeating what he was mumbling in his sleep.

“I mean it. Did you have a nightmare? You were talking.”

“I was?” He asked waveringly. “I...”

“You mentioned Annie.”

Bertolt's face grew pale. I waited. After a short moment, he took a breath and opened his mouth to speak.

A knock on the door.

_Oh, for fuck's fucking sake._

“______-san... it's Moblit. I'm sorry if I woke you up. There's a meeting at the Commander's office and they are calling you in. Would you mind coming?”

I sighed.

“I'll just put on some clothes and I'll be there. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Thank you, I'll let them know.” His footsteps faded in the distance. I sighed again, sat up, and gazed down at Bertolt, who had a terribly uneasy look on his pale face. _Right. Fabulous day._

“I'd like you to come with me,” I said, standing up and making my way to the wardrobe. Naked. I picked some random clothes, minding to grab a thick, long sweater and dressed up hurriedly. In silence. I went to the bathroom. After I walked out, I peeked at Bertolt while I was brushing my hair. “Bertolt? Can you hear me?”

He blinked rapidly a couple of times and stared at me.

“Y-yeah.” He got up and followed me in suit.

“Bertolt, what is it?” I murmured when we marched down the hallway. I squeezed his hand and glanced up at him.

“That nightmare, um...”

“Whatever it was, you can't control your dreams,” I said blankly. _You can't. But they do pick on what's going through your mind. And I do wonder as hell what he's so sorry about to Annie._

_I have fallen._

_I'm fucking jealous._

He didn't seem convinced by my tone, but we arrived at the office and there was no time for further talk. I knocked at the door and after we heard a come-in, he opened it for me, intending to stay behind as usual, but instead I grabbed his forearm and pulled him in with me. There was only Erwin in the office. _A big meeting, my ass._

“_-______, what are you-” Bertolt stammered.

“I'm sick of sitting here on my own,” I growled. “I'm here to stop you morons from killing each other, not to be interrogated like a fucking criminal.”

Erwin entwined his fingers and brought his hands on the desk.

“______-san, I would appreciate if you listened to Cadet Hoover. This meeting is not for ears of anybody below the highest ranks.”

“Well then, I'll be leaving with Bertolt in such case,” I sneered. _You picked a really bad morning to fuck with me, Erwin._ “Besides, I'm going to tell him all about this talk anyway. Why bother making me go through it twice?”

_Gotcha._

Erwin rubbed his forehead with one hand and he moved aside some documents with the other. I doubted he had at least a minute of sleep last night, but his presence was immaculate. I kept my grip on Bertolt's arm. He was shivering.

“There is no time for useless arguments,” Erwin admitted, closing his piercing eyes for a moment. “Take a sit, both of you, please.”

_That was too easy. Motherfucker planned it. He wants to shrink Bertolt._

Bertolt must have thought the same, because he fidgeted noticeably.

“I-I don't mind, I can s-s-stand o-outside,” he stuttered.

_You can question me all you want, Erwin, but you can pester Bertolt only after my dead body._

“Commander Erwin, you could simply save us even more time and admit that it's not really me that you want to talk to,” I remarked. We stared at each other without a word for way too long for my taste. Then his eyes shifted to Bertolt.

“______-san, Cadet Hoover, please take your seats.” Erwin's eyes grew colder. “I didn't want to get down to that, but it seems I have to tell you, Cadet Hoover, that I'm under no obligation to not interrogate you like an accused criminal. The reason we are not talking in the dungeons is that I wish to uphold a stable relation with ______-san, and a lot of it depends on your well-being. Otherwise...” Erwin's voice trailed off, giving Bertolt a moment to imagine all shades of that _otherwise_.

_Fucking liar. You wouldn't lock him up for good either, not until he's useful, like on that fucking excuse of a patrol. And you know you are pissing me off with what you are saying._

_Oh, no, no, no, no. Keep your head cool, you moron._

_Fucking chess. Fucking waste of time._

I growled.

“Erwin, cut the fucking shit. We're here for the same thing, more or less, so just fucking ask your questions and let's get this over with.” I sat down on one of the chairs with a loud thump, and pulled Bertolt onto the one next to me, still holding his hand. _Being useful... I wonder what he plans to do with Bertolt once he's of no use. And me... he doesn't trust anyone, and us two are beyond even that bubble of distrust. We're somewhere around fucking Kenny Ackerman for him, or further._

_Well, I'll go along, for now. As long as I can sort this shit out and get this reality running in the good direction. If he decides to go the other way, good riddance._

_I still like you, Erwin._

“Good. It will take less time if we can talk straight. Cadet Hoover,” Erwin spoke up. Bertolt shivered, his grip on my hand hardened painfully. His fingers were clammy. “Do you know the localization of the Ape Titan's hideout?”

Bertolt gulped. I dipped my head and pinched my lips in a narrow line. _That's up to you, Bertolt. I'd like to know that as well. But there's a big difference between telling me and telling them. And after all, you hadn't told me all that much._

“N-no,” uttered Bertolt. “I know there- there are two, at least, but we weren't told where.” He was breathing rapidly and his hand was shaking. I stroked his thumb with mine. “One- one is in- in- somewhere in Sina. N-no idea a-a-about the other.”

_He betrayed his friends, and now he's betraying his homeland. He thought he was doing the right thing then, and he wonders if he's doing the right thing again. I'm sorry, Bertolt. I'm so sorry._

_That's my fault._

_He's a double traitor because of me._

_Am I really helping him?_

_How am I supposed to fix things here, if I want to help him at the same time?_

“How many other spies from your settlement are inside the walls?”

“We are n-not told that e-either. N-none of us ha-have the f-full picture. That's s-s-safer.” Bertolt's voice was higher than usual, and he was stuttering more than I had ever heard him. “I-I knew only us- us four. And one that- that was m-meeting us. There are others. I don't- I don't know where and how- how many.”

“Who is the fourth one, and who is your contact?” Erwin's voice, on the other hand, was sharper and grimmer with each word.

“Dead. Mar- the f-f-fourth one, he was k-killed before we reached- we reached Wall Maria. The contact was murdered a y-year later.”

“Murdered by whom?” Erwin leaned in like a predator that caught a scent of a wounded prey.

“A-ape Titan's warriors.”

I closed my eyes and raised my head. I imagined Erwin's reaction was similar, judging by the silence that followed. Bertolt sat still, his hand stopped shaking, but it was dripping sweat.

“So... the Ape Titan is not your ally?” Erwin asked slowly after a moment passed, like he was tasting the words.

“No. He- he's from the- Outer Walls. Our villages...” Bertolt bit his lips and glanced at me desperately. All I could muster was a pleading, guilty, apologising gaze in reply. “His f-forces occupy most of- most of the habitable areas. E-e-e-everywhere.” His voice suddenly broke, he hunched forward and his face constricted. _Oh god._ “We- Reiner, A-Annie, and- and I, we've been in the underground r-resistance ranks. Since- since Shiganshina.”

* * *

We sat in the mess hall. Bertolt was wolfing down his bowl of porridge; I was apathetically poking mine with the spoon. The hall was filled with noise, chatter of the soldiers, clatter of the cutlery against the dishes, footsteps, creaking of the benches. The wind and rain passed by the time we left Erwin's office, uncovering a clear, perfectly blue sky, much in the colour of the Commander's eyes.

 _He looks better,_ I thought. _After speaking so much. He looks much better. It lifted a lot from his shoulders, and he's got a tangible path before him again. Like he's finally breathing._

“______?”

I glanced up from my cooling porridge and upped my eyebrow. Bertolt tilted his head to the side and peered at me worriedly. He reached out to take my hand and brushed his thumb over my knuckles. I swallowed thickly and let my gaze down again, determined to start eating. So I did.

“You're worried about Jean, aren't you?” he mused softly.

“Of course I am.” I scowled sourly, not really at the cold meal. “But... uh...” I trailed off.

_This is stupid. Stupid dream. Stupid me._

“But what?” There was more concern in his tone than previously.

“Could we... talk about that a bit later? I need a breath.” I said quietly.

“S-sure. Take your time, you know that.” He sighed. “I have infirmary duty in ten, do you- do you want to see Armin?”

“Sounds good.” I gave him a warm smile and he brightened up a little.

“I'll go get my uniform.”

* * *

Armin was sitting upright in his bed, reading. His right shoulder was bandaged, and he had a nasty, dark bruise sprawled over his right cheek, all around a stitched cut. There was a stack of four books on his bedside table and from the look of it, those were books he had already gone through. He hadn't noticed me until I patted his shoulder; he gasped, but he didn't flinch.

“______-san, Bertolt! Good to see you.” He closed the book and laid it on the top of the pile. _I bet he memorised the page number._

“How are you feeling, Armin?” I sat on a stool next to the bed and folded my hands on my lap. Bertolt stood behind me, his fingers grazing my shoulder.

“Well, thanks to Bertolt and you, not bad at all,” Armin lowered his gaze and for a moment, his face was hidden behind his hair, but then he turned his head to us and smiled. “I can't thank you both enough. If it wasn't for you, Bertolt, I wouldn't have even been here...” he added in a whisper. I turned around to Bertolt.

“Oh? It seems I'm missing something, am I not?”

Bertolt blushed and fidgeted.

“I-I'll go report to the head nurse.”

Without waiting for a reply from Armin or me, he left hurriedly. I stared at the door that stood ajar after his departure. Armin muffled a chuckle.

“Eh?” I frowned and looked at him. He had a warm, knowing smile all over his features, although it was tainted with melancholy.

“That's so much like... him,” Armin said, the warmth and sadness ringing in his tone as well. He glanced up at me and ran his hand through his lovely hair. “He took me out of there when we encountered the Ape Titan, I mean, the man that shifts into it. It was a forest clearing, at least that's what we thought at first. Then we discovered it was a spot rummaged by titans, and the titans themselves were hidden under the dirt and the fallen trees... I fell between the teeth of one of them. Bertolt pulled me out. If it wasn't for him... I would've lost much more than my legs,” he finished in a barely audible murmur.

“He didn't tell me,” I said. “Yes, that's so much like him...” I shared the same warm-sad smile. _I'm going to show him later how much that means to me._ “How are your legs?”

“A bit weak at the moment,” he admitted. “But I expected that, I know Marco was feeling dizzy and his leg and arm were unstable for a day or two.”

“H-hey...” Bertolt's head and shoulder appeared from behind the door frame. “I have to change bandages in four rooms, that's gonna take a while.”

“That's all right.” I bit my lower lip. “Go and be Sushi. I'll take Armin for a walk, he needs to stretch his brand new calves.”

Bertolt smiled timidly, nodded, and walked away.

“Sushi?” Armin repeated, puzzled to the bone. “But isn't that-”

“Armin. Shut up.”

Then it hit me. I leaned closer, staring at him anxiously.

“How do you know what it is?”

“I... read about it. In one of the older books. Really old.”

“Peculiar.” I scratched my head. “Get up. We are going on an adventure. There and back again. To the training grounds and back here.”

Armin blushed.

“Um...”

“What?”

“I need to put on some, uh, clothes _down there_ first.”

* * *

By the time Armin and I approached the training field, Bertolt finished his task and ran over to check on us. Armin, with eyes closed, was leaning on the damp wooden fence, breathing deeply. I was standing close by, examining a wonderful amanita specimen that daringly grew on the edge of the forest. I resisted the urge to walk back to the small gate in this fence to study the mushroom up close. I'd never seen such a vibrant one, and it reminded me how much my daughter loved drawing those.

“I brought you water,” Bertolt said, handing Armin a filled glass. Armin grabbed it and gulped down almost a half at once with relief on his face.

“Thank y- oh, shit!” As the fate had it, the smooth glass slipped out of Armin's sweaty fingers and on its fatal way to the ground, it spilled the remaining contents onto Bertolt's trousers.

Right _there._

“I'm so sorry!”

I bent forward, trying to contain a laugh, but any resistance was futile. I peeked up and saw both guys giving me a look of deep reproach. That only made me cackle louder.

“All right, don't stare at me like this. Stay here, I'll go get you some dry trousers, you idiot beanpole. Pretend you are very interested in that amanita or something.” I turned on my heel and strode away, still shaking with giggles. I kept myself close to the fence, hoping to find more mushrooms. I noticed from afar that the forest gate was open. I was sure it had not been open when I had passed it with Armin ten minutes prior. I slowed down when I reached it, and gazed between the trees. I wanted to glance at Armin and Bertolt, but the border of the training was curved inwardly and they were shielded from my sight by the thicket. I stared into the forest again and I noticed a forearm poking from behind a tree. Laying on the ground, loosely holding some paper. I frowned. I peeked in the direction of the guys again and decided to walk over to check on that person.

And I should have known better.

First came the hand, clamping my mouth, and the arm that wrapped around me from behind, caging my own arms to my sides. Then four people appeared as if out of nowhere. They had the 3DMG, but they weren't wearing the corps uniforms, nor any kind of a uniform, in fact, only plain, functional clothes and heavy combat boots. I tried to bite the hand, but the grip on my jaw was too tight. I couldn't elbow the attacker, but I could kick. I hit their shin, to no avail. I decided to go for my last resort.

_I fucking hope you like having your fucking legs broken, motherfucker._

The next moment was dreadful. The assaulter let go of me and howled in pain. I screamed. I fell forward onto the damp moss and leaves, and I screamed, and screamed. I had never had any of my bones broken and I had never expected the pain to be so excruciating.

“BERTOOOOOOLT! HELP! HEEELP! HE-”

One of the strangers jumped to me, retracted his fist... and then it fell forward and connected with my temple.

And I was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here the shit hits the fan. It's going to get a good pace from now on. Please let me know what you think!


	16. Live with it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's it like to be Bertolt Hoover?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written from Bertolt's point of view. Big warning for graphic descriptions of gore and violence, and self-hate thoughts.

_Bertolt was striding through the dungeons. They were the dungeons under the Survey Corps headquarters, he was sure of that, but why did they seem so vast... so labyrinthine? He turned around. It all seemed familiar, but he still couldn't find the way... and where was he going, anyway? His gaze fell to the floor. Blood. Bloody footprints. He looked over his shoulder back towards the direction he was walking in. There were no footprints. The bloody traces were his own._

_“I'm sorry,” Bertolt mumbled. “I'm sorry... sorry... please... I'm sorry, I'm sorry...”_

_The footprints were there. He kicked off his shoes, pivoted, and ran. He ran until he slipped and fell forward. Without getting up, he looked behind. The footprints were there, this time from his bare feet._

_“I'm sorry... sorry... please... I beg you... I'm sorry...”_

_He wanted to stand up, so he turned his face to the ground. Instead of the stone floor, he stared at his own reflection. He fell into a pool of blood. The reflection stared back at him with a grimace of hate and disgust._

_“Please... sorry... sorry... please... please... I didn't... want...”_

_He crawled, not even trying to get to his feet, covering his clothes and himself in more blood, and the reflection followed him along, not changing its expression._

_“Please... I'm sorry...”_

_Something different came into view. Bertolt peered up and his heart skipped a beat before it raced in terror. Annie glared down at him from inside her crystal._

_“You left me,” she accused him in a dead voice. “You betrayed me and left me to freeze away, all alone. You betrayed me. Traitor. You left me. Traitor, traitor, traitor.”_

_“I'm sorry...” His voice, still very quiet, started shaking._

_“I was wrong about you. You are a failure,” she continued coldly, without mercy. “You are a failure. You are nothing. You are a mass murderer. You are a failure. You are weak. Traitor. You are disgusting. Traitor, traitor. You are a failure. I hate you. I hate you with all my heart and mind. Everyone hates you. She hates you. You don't deserve anything but death. You are disgusting. You are a traitor.”_

_There were corpses everywhere. There was no floor. Bertolt was crawling on a surface made of countless lifeless bodies, their empty eyes biting into his mind, their limp hands reaching for him, their teeth flashing between lips that were pulled in decay, the blood, so much blood..._

_“I wanted to come home with you. Traitor. You disgust me. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You failure, you are nothing, nothing!”_

_“I'm sorry... sorry... Annie...”_

_“Traitor! MURDERER!”_

_“I'm sorry...”_

_One after another, the corpses lifted their heads and began creeping towards him._

_The carcass right next to him leaned in. He watched it- he watched_ her _with wide eyes. Tears flowed down his cheeks._

_She bit into his arm._

* * *

The dream returned to his mind when Bertolt entered the first room filled with wounded soldiers, carrying a bag of bandages. He knew those people. He avoided any eye contact as he approached the first bed and examined. The woman had her whole arm right wrapped, her right leg was set in a cast. The cloth on her arm was soaked through.

“H-hello,” Bertolt stammered. “I'll need to change your bandages, o-okay?”

There was no answer, so he peeked at her face. She was blonde. A thick wrapping was covering her right eye. The left eye was glaring at him. It was icy blue. Filled with hate. He felt his stomach drop.

“I'm- I'm sorry, I can co-come back l-later.”

“Just get through with it,” she hissed. She mumbled something else under her breath, something that sounded too similar to _traitor_.

Bertolt clenched his jaw. A droplet of sweat ran down his temple. He knelt on the floor and started removing the wrappings from her arm. It had a row of teeth marks on its whole length, supposedly from a three or four meter class, and all around it was bruised to a dark purple-black shade. It was rather squished than bitten through, but in three places the skin was broken, and the wounds were in a bad shape already. Bertolt picked a bottle of salicylic spirit and uncorked it.

“I'm sorry, this is going to s-sting,” he squeaked and carefully poured the alcohol over the gashes. The woman whimpered through clenched teeth. “I'm sorry.”

“Cut the fucking crap and get on with it,” she snarled. “No one needs your fake apologies, fucking bloody monster.”

“Shut up, Martha, some of us are trying to get a rest, and your venom vomit makes it hard,” a ginger boy groaned. He looked much younger than Bertolt.

The rest of the duty in this room passed without a word. The blond woman's eye was all red and surrounded by a dark purple and yellow swelling. The ginger boy lacked his left hand and had plenty of deep cuts on his torso.

 _That's it for being a soldier for him_ , Bertolt thought. _He's just a kid... but maybe ______ could-_

 _And how many such kids were crippled or died because of me? How many could she help? Am I going to ask her to fix everyone?_

_I deserve all of that hate._

There also were two unconscious soldiers in the room. One had his whole head wrapped and Bertolt felt sick when he removed the bandages. The man's face was ripped to shreds. The comatose woman's legs ended at her knees and she missed her entire right arm. Bertolt bit his lips until they bled and he wondered if he was assigned to the infirmary duty as a form of punishment.

He remembered to keep quiet when he opened the door to the second room.

* * *

Relief washed over Bertolt when he left the infirmary, telling the head nurse that he would check on Armin. He took a glass of water to look more convincing under her judging, reluctant eyes. As soon as she nodded rigidly, he pivoted and ran out of the building, fresh mud splashing around from under his boots. He was on the verge of tears.

He somewhat calmed down when he reached the gate and entered the training grounds, figuring out that it would be the most plausible place to find ______ and Armin. The forest smelled divine after the rain and he noticed some mushrooms poking out from between the bushes. The area surrounding the field was very different from the one at the training camp, but he couldn't help reflecting on the years spent learning how to be a soldier. He could almost smell the dusty, dry, scorching Summer air that made him go around thoroughly drenched with sweat and feel ten times as awkward as usual because of it. Steeped clothes were clinging to his skin as he sparred with other cadets and he wished dearly to run and hide in shade to reconsider signing up.

Now he would give anything to go back to those quiet, almost happy years, when for everyone he was nothing else except a taciturn but kind and polite Bertolt Hoover, when no one looked at him like... _that_. Sometimes, rarely, so rarely, even he himself could forget what was under that shell, for a brief moment, like a blink of an eye or a single heartbeat. Then he would remember and feel his guts twist in nausea. 

He remembered how every time in the showers, hidden behind the curtain, he hunched, constricted, convulsed with sobs, wide-open eyes seeing the horrors instead of the tiles, tears joining the falling water, hand clamped tightly over the mouth to kill any sound that tried to escape his throat. How every time he hoped he wouldn't cry again, and every time he hoped in vain.

He was worried about Reiner, yes, but he was jealous just as much.

Bertolt halted in his step and leaned on the wooden fence, trying to calm his shaking hands. He almost spilled the water from the glass. He supported himself on his elbows that topped the plank and let his head drop down. He closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath. He let it out slowly, paused, and inhaled again.

 _Ghosts don't need faces to follow you_ , he thought.

_Or there are too many after me to notice the eyes._

_I deserve this._

_She said she didn't want any more blood spilled and she wouldn't let anyone kill me. I think killing me would be merciful. Living with... with this... that's what's cruel. That's what I deserve. But I don't deserve to live either. Exist – yes, that would be the word. They should make me exist with... this. Make me do things like this infirmary duty. Yes._

_I'm disgusting._

_But war makes monsters out of many, doesn't it? I've been just following orders. Always. Always doing what the others tell me. That's what I'm really good at. Obeying. Eren said that he would have rather killed himself than do what I had done. I should have. Reiner, Annie, and Marcel, they would have gone on with the mission. It would have happened anyway, all this. But it wouldn't have been me._

_Not me._

“Why?” Bertolt hissed through clenched teeth. “Why me?” He took one more deep breath and straightened up. His boots were covered in mud up to his ankles.

He passed the curve of the field and he saw them. Finally. Focus. She was absorbed in watching something over the fence, her shoes and the hem of her skirt damp and dirty. Bertolt immediately felt warmth gathering in his heart. He smiled. He really smiled.

He walked over. Armin was resting, still pink and panting from the stroll. 

“I brought you water,” Bertolt said, handing Armin a filled glass. Armin gave him a thankful glance and took a few large gulps.

“Thank y- oh, shit!” 

_Oh god, no. No, no, no. Fuck._

Armin spilled the water.

Bertolt's face shot red and he stared down at his trousers. He did wear the wide leather sash that was a part of the uniform, but it was nowhere near enough to hide the wet stain on his crotch and thighs. He exchanged utterly awkward and panicked gazes with Armin.

_Fuck, nooo... no, no, nonononono... I'm going to die, oh god, this is embarrassing, and she saw it, oh my god, this is a horror, I'm gonna lose my mind, please someone fucking kill me, oh god, no, no, no, no, ARMIN, WHY?! Of all things, I did NOT deserve THIS ONE! Oh fuck... no, no, no..._

“I'm so sorry!” Armin squeaked.

And then she started laughing.

Bertolt's reaction was mixed. He was dying of embarrassment and wanted to meld into the ground and stay there forever, but she laughed so openly like this so rarely that he didn't want it to stop. She bent forward and shook with giggles. Eventually, she caught their pitiful glares and cackled some more before she took mercy and promised to bring Bertolt dry trousers.

_I love you._

Bertolt watched as she strode away, throwing at him little glances over her shoulder until she disappeared behind the trees. He sighed, smiling, and leaned on the fence, facing the forest, right next to Armin. Armin turned around to peer into the woods as well, or at least that's what Bertolt thought.

“You know, it's uplifting to see you two,” Armin said with a sunny, calm smile. Bertolt remembered how they used to be good, close friends, how they used to stay in the library after the curfew and run lively discussions over every book or theory lesson, or when he used to help Armin with the physical training, especially the 3DMG skills. This felt so much like those old times.

“H-how so?” Bertolt stuttered, his cheeks going back to their furious red shade.

“Well, it's-” Armin began, but he was cut off by a blood-curdling scream. Both men jumped and for a blink of an eye, they stared in the direction from where it sourced, somewhere beyond the thicket. All the blush disappeared from Bertolt's face at once, leaving his skin deathly pale and _dry_.

“BERTOOOOOOLT! HELP! HELP! HE-”

“__________!” Bertolt cried and bolted off. Even if Armin had been in perfect condition, he had no chance to catch up to him – no one from the 104th squad could, and Armin had no doubts that anyone in the whole Survey Corps would have a big problem to do that. Bertolt was tall – currently the tallest in the Corps since he had outgrown Squad Leader Zacharius. Hence, he had really long legs. What was more, he had ranked the third in the whole class, and his score in conditioning was second only to Mikasa's. Reiner was third in those.

Bertolt sprinted up to the gate and he saw them. He saw Othmar sprawled on the ground, his legs broken and sticking at horrible angles, and Erik, who was about to pull him up onto his shoulders. Erik had the 3DMG on him. Othmar's was nowhere to be found. Bertolt slipped and fell face-first into a puddle, covering his whole front in mud. He skipped up and ran forward until he halted at the gate and ogled them in shock.

“Wha-”

Erik pulled out his sword and pointed it at Bertolt, standing up. Othmar groaned through his teeth.

“You're as good as fucking dead, 49, so step the fuck back, I don't have the time to put you down right now.”

_I don't have any time either._

The next moment Erik was laying on the ground next to Othmar, knocked out. Bertolt didn't waste a second and started removing his gear to attach it to his own harness with shaking hands. He gritted his teeth and did his best to keep any tears from spilling.

“You are pathetic, 49,” Othmar squawked. “So pathetic that the Suzerain won't even have your head, they'll just throw you over fucking scorching Wall Anna. Auf Wiedersehen.”

“Bertolt! What's happe- Bertolt?!” Armin finally hobbled over and stared wide-eyed at the scene. Bertolt grabbed a scarf from Erik's neck and stuffed it up Othmar's mouth.

“Don't let him bite,” he explained quickly, locking up the last part of the gear. “Tie him up and get someone here. Remove their bottom right fourth and fifth teeth. Carefully. There's suicide poison locked in them.”

“Bertolt, wait-”

“They took her!” Bertolt cried, jumping to his feet. He turned around, the wires shot out with a piercing whiz, and he zoomed out, balancing between the branches.

“This is bad,” Armin whimpered. He stared at the gagged man and his expression changed from scared and shocked to determined and nearly sinister.

* * *

He could still hear them. He could hear the noise from the 3DMG strained to its limits, the hiss of the gas, the whiz of the wires, the cracking when they were being fired. He was closing in, they were getting louder. The warriors were obviously way less skilled than he was.

Bertolt's eyes narrowed when saw the lone rear guard, a bald, lean man. He reached for his swords. 

_There is no point in fighting them. Othmar and Erik didn't kill themselves only because they thought they would still get away. The rest won't be so weak. There's just one option left._

The man fell to the ground like a rag doll. His bald head rolled good fifty feet from the rest of the body. 

_That I can live with._

Bertolt dashed forward. 

_Two more_ , he thought. _If it's a regular squad, there has to be two more._

He heard it in the last moment. Bertolt yelped and changed his direction abruptly, barely avoiding a blade that instead of beheading him, made a shallow cut on his throat. He coughed and did his best to heal it up and fight back at the same time. He bounced off a tree to reverse and scanned the area to find the attacker. It was a small person, presumably a woman, wearing a SC uniform, with the hood of her cloak hiding her face. She was hanging off another tree, one leg and one wire supporting her body. The way she held her swords was almost relaxed. 

_A spy? Definitely... but, just in case..._

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” He roared. “WE'RE GETTING HER BACK, COME ON!” 

Her shoulders rose and fell, like she sighed deeply. She shoved one blade back to the sheath and gripped the other tighter. Bertolt clenched his jaw. 

_There's no time for this. She's here to buy time for the one carrying ______. Go on, warrior, attack. Go on._

She pushed herself off and charged. Bertolt tightened his fists on his handles and bared his teeth. He jumped into the air, too, and made a swift turn to avoid the woman's blade. She swirled around, kicked herself off a thick branch and flew forward. She raised her free hand... 

She removed her hood. 

Bertolt's mind went numb. 

Then he was plummeting towards the ground, with his left arm ending above his elbow and with a horrible gash across his chest. The fall knocked the air out of his lungs and for a moment he couldn't utter a word. His severed arm had already began dissolving like flesh of a regular titan. Blood pooled around him. 

He watched as Annie disappeared between the trees in the distance. 

He took the first gasp of air. His wounds started steaming. 

He screamed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, mysterious numbers, mysterious names, mysterious places...
> 
> At some point I decided I didn't want to write from Bertl's perspective, but it was too tempting. I guess it was worth it. My poor cinnamon roll.
> 
> *Wall Anna - see chapter #6.


	17. Bloody Empress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought the things were bad, Reader? Well, you are about to reconsider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of swearing ahead.

_What a soft bed._

_Must be the nicest one here yet. It even has a good, thick duvet, not a bunch of pitiful blankets. Fucking monkey sure lives in comfort. The more he'll be surprised when I fuck his ass with a big, dirty stick until it pokes out of his mouth._

_I hope Bertolt is all right. I'm not at the headquarters, so it means he couldn't get to me. Those fuckers sure did look tough, but it takes more than that to take down a guy like Bertolt. Particularly when he's pissed. But since I'm here, it must have something happened to him._

_Please, be all right._

I opened my eyes and stared into a carved canopy of a very, very rich bed. Mahogany. The carvings reminded me of something, put I couldn't quite figure it out. I yawned and scowled. My head hurt.

_Shouldn't it be fine? My legs are okay now, the broken bones have healed. Why the headache?_

_Maybe it's a different thing when I get what's prepared for me. When I fuck with the story, it gets back at me, but I get up fast. But in other circumstances, when it's directed at me, like I was a part of the story, I can get tired, I can be hit and lose consciousness... I can have a bloody headache._

_I wonder who was it that I saved from twisting their ankle in that fucking faulty stair step in Summer, if that's the case._

“Good evening.”

I didn't turn my eyes to look at the man. _Fuck you, monkey._

“Is it, now?” I asked nonchalantly. “What a boring day it must have been that I've slept it through.”

“I didn't expect you to look like this,” the man said.

“I don't give a single shit about your expectations,” I snorted.

“On the other hand,” he continued, ignoring my words, “it's not like mass-murderers walk around with tags on them. Or constantly soaked in blood.”

“I do know a couple and indeed, they don't.” I smirked.

“Perhaps it's inversely proportional. The more deaths you're responsible for, the less intimidating you look. Difficult to say, but if you are on the top of the scale and, let's say, 49, 57, and 102 are somewhere near the bottom... I guess that would work, yes.”

_Considering how random those numbers are, they must be labels of some sort, makes no other sense in including them in a middle of a scale. Judging by that there are three and he's regarding them on the topic of mass-murder, those are Reiner, Annie, and Bertolt. I wonder which number belongs to which one of them. And what's Marcel's number. And his..._

_And, above of all, what do they refer to?_

“Seems like you know a good bit about me, even though I don't say much,” I remarked.

“Oh, I suspect that I know way more than any of the people you spoke to.” The man's voice turned amused.

_What a creep. And what bullshit. No one knows anything about me unless I told them or showed in some way. Bertolt knows the most and he wouldn't babble. Never mind he didn't have any occasion to forward such stuff around._

_Right?_

I sighed and sat up. The rich, thick duvet in silk covers slipped down from my dirty, damaged dress.

_Man, if they even thought about changing my clothes, I will cut off their dicks._

“I have a change of clothes for you in case you'd like to get out of this massacred dress,” he said politely. “I had them adjusted to your size after you arrived. I'm sure you'll find them fitting.”

“Such kindness,” I scoffed. “Is this how you mass-murders go about yourselves on casual days?”

“Only for the bloody empress,” he replied, the amusement in his tone returning.

_Did he seriously believe in that Doctor Who story I fed to Bertolt back on the Eastern Tower in Summer back then? For fuck's sake... I did fuck up a great deal, more than once, but I can count all those times that with the fingers of my left hand. And I didn't kill anyone. I just couldn't do anything..._

“I'll get that change.” I shrugged and finally turned to look at the man. In his fifties, blond with white strands, beard, round glasses, white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, dark brown cargo trousers, heavy boots. His left forearm was covered in one huge scar tissue. I couldn't quite make out the colour of his eyes. He was sitting in an armchair by the window. A candelabra stood on a small stand next to him, but most of the light in the room was coming from a blazing fireplace.

He nodded with the same polite smile that I heard in his voice earlier. It was a grin of a dog that was convinced it cornered a rat.

_Good luck. I hope you shifters can grow your balls back in case you piss me off._

“It's on the table. I'll leave you to it.” He stood up and made his way to the door, but he stopped and looked at me before he left. “For the record. Guards are all around.”

“Peculiar,” I sneered.

After he closed the door, I jumped out of the bed. The headache was gone. I walked to the window and looked outside. Forest. And judging by the height, it was at least third floor. My vision started spinning and I took a step back.

_Fucking heights._

I strode to the mentioned table and eyed the neatly folded cloth. Silky in touch. Red.

_Such drama. Pathetic._

I grabbed it and unfolded it before me.

My stomach dropped. I let go of the garment and it pooled on the floor by my feet.

_How the fuck do they know what a kimono looks like?_

* * *

I took my time to explore the room. It had a small bathroom attached to it, thank heavens. I found nothing that I could use as a weapon, except for the candelabra, but it was too heavy to use for anything else than a surprise attack, preferably from behind someone's back. There was nowhere to hide either, besides, it was pointless. The window was locked. Even if I broke the glass, I could only jump out, and it was a long, long way down.

I approached the fireplace and stared into the flames absent-mindedly. I frowned. I peered to the side and smiled.

A poker.

_Fantastic._

A knock at the door.

“Yeah, yeah, come in,” I called dismissively, back to observing the fire.

Someone entered. The door closed. 

Silence.

I frowned and looked over my shoulder. If my stomach dropped at the sight of the kimono, now I was sure that all my guts had, and not to the floor, but through the planet and into the space.

“What brings you here, Annie?” I asked kindly. She stared at me with those icy-blue eyes that glistened in the fire, turning them into two frozen ambers. She wore the exact same clothes as the blond man.

“I've heard you screwed Bertolt,” she said indifferently.

 _Straight to the point, are we?_ I smiled. _I think I know why I ended up here and why Bertolt didn't manage to catch up to me. I wasn't the only objective. They got you out and you joined in. You attacked Bertolt. Most likely you showed your face and hurt him when he was in shock. Oh yes. That's how it is._

“Yes...” I replied slowly. “I definitely did.” I turned around to face her. “I take it you sliced him up when you saw him.” My smile turned into a dry scowl. She eyed me back with her unchanging stone expression. “That's bad.”

_Come on. Slap me. Kick me. See how you like it on yourself._

I felt my insides heat up.

“Yes...” she said, mimicking my words. “I definitely did.” She stepped closer. “He might have broken something when he fell those fifty feet down, too.”

My hands shook.

_Come on. Just give me one more reason._

“He would've died if he followed,” she added, breaking the eye contact. My furious thoughts disappeared. “He and Reiner are on the black list. Right now, they aren't the priority, but it's a matter of time.”

_The patrol. They blew their covers on the patrol. And the idiot beanpole would go after me, right into this. A brilliant soldier or warrior he is, he's got no chance here by himself._

“How bad did you get him?” I inquired quietly.

“An arm and a slice over the chest. I didn't look after he fell. Couldn't stay behind.”

I rubbed my eyebrows with my thumb and index finger.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, staring at her again. She sent me back a somewhat gentler gaze. “For saving him.”

“He's still my friend,” she murmured. “I didn't do it for you.”

“It doesn't change what I've said.” I frowned. “What are the numbers about?”

“Numbers?” she repeated. “You mean the subject tags?”

“ _Subject_ tags?” My voice wavered and I felt my knees go weak. I sat down on the same armchair that was previously occupied by the stranger. “As in... _experiment_ subjects?” I supported my temple on my palm and locked my wide eyes onto some random point at my feet.

“I should go,” Annie said. “I was supposed to only check on you anyway.”

“When can you come back?” I asked when she marched to the door.

“Unless they tell me to, I can't.”

The door clicked closed, and I was alone. Again.

_Unless they tell you to. I wonder how much they told you to do besides checking up on me. They sure didn't order you to spill the beans, that's why you left after I asked about the numbers._

“How the fuck did they know about kimono?” I hissed, leaning back into the armchair.

_Subject tags. Experiments. Early experiments? Or recent? How many of them are there, still alive? 49, 57, and 102... So there were at least 102 subjects. Somehow I doubt that many of them survived. Those warriors that kidnapped me didn't seem to be shifters - at least not the guy that ended up with his legs broken. Maybe they had a problem with jumping over the part where a titan needs to eat a shifter to gain the control. I remember that Bertolt admitted that he and Reiner had been wandering as regular titans for some time. But... that doesn't mean they weren't experimented on. After all, their abilities are rather special._

A knock on the door.

“In.”

Mister Glasses came back, carrying a tray with a plate full of steaming mashed potatoes and ham, and a mug of tea. He set it next to the candelabra and sat down in the other armchair in front of me.

“You must be hungry,” he pointed out.

_He's pulling fucking Captain Barbossa. First the fucking dress, now dinner. For fuck's sake..._

I shrugged and dug in. I was hungry. Comparing to the food served at the military base, this was gourmet and I was finished far too soon for my liking.

“Didn't you have sushi on the menu?” I snorted, putting down the knife and fork. Mr. Glasses handed me a handkerchief and I wiped my lips. “It wasn't bad though.”

“Unfortunately, rice is far too expensive, it doesn't pay to transport it further than Wall Martha.”

_He knows what sushi is. Armin knows, too, and he read it in some book. All right._

“I'll make sure to pay a visit there,” I mumbled. “This is a nice dress. Not quite correct on the details, but still decent.”

“My apologies. Few books on the subject have survived to this day, and even fewer can be read, since nearly everyone who could read Japanese died a long time ago.”

_I have a bad feeling about this. A fucking big, intense, bad feeling._

“I made my attempts at learning it, but there was never the time when people and potential tutors were still around, and then, well, they weren't. And I still have no time for that, even if they lived.” He smiled crookedly. The fire reflected in his glasses, hiding his eyes. “I visited Kyoto once. Beautiful.”

I felt sick. So very, very, very sick. The dinner started considering fighting for freedom and pressed to the top of my stomach.

“That was, what... 120 years ago. Good times. Not the best, but still better.”

_I'm gonna puke. I'm gonna puke. Oh god, someone please wake me up. I'm gonna puke._

“I remember Grisha Yeager loved sushi in particular. We made a trip to Wall Martha every year for his birthday to eat some. No seaweed, though.” He chuckled. “No wonder he liked visiting the Ackerman's so much, must have reminded him of old times.”

I stopped paying attention to what he was saying. Cold sweat broke all over my body and I had a problem breathing. My head was light and felt like wrapped in sticky, reeking, hot cloth. I was close to hyperventilating. My hands gripped the armrests so hard that my nails were at risk of breaking out of my fingers.

 _I didn't step into a story_ , echoed through my mind. _I fucking passed a century into the future. I'm gonna be sick. I'm gonna be sick. Oh god. This... is..._

I jumped to my feet and ran to the bathroom. All my dinner escaped my throat in a matter of seconds. I sat back on my heels before the toilet, panting. Tears that were forced out with the spasms ran down my cheeks. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shakily stood up to wash my face and gargle my throat. I was dizzy.

After I cleaned myself, I put my hands on the sides of the stone sink and leaned forward, observing myself in the mirror. I was horribly pale, dark shadows were under my eyes, my skin was damp and shiny. My hair, which I had managed to tame somewhat after I had changed my clothes, was back to a state of a rat's nest.

_Someone please wake me up. I'm begging. Bertolt, wake me up. Please. Please._

I hunched and gritted my teeth. More tears spilled.

“Was the dinner bad, after all?” Mr. Glasses was standing at the door. “Or...” His eyes glimmered in the fire. “You didn't know. Good grief. You didn't know!” He gave me a blood-curdling smile. That was him. The actual man. I shivered. “How much else you don't know?”

I looked away from him. I locked my empty eyes onto the sink hole and scowled. I was still sick, but there was nothing left in my stomach.

“Do they know what you did to get into the facility?” he asked. He sounded like a child that was let into a toy shop and was told that he can get each and every toy he wants. Or maybe rather a hungry cat that was left in a room filled with baby rats. “Your daughter died in the result, didn't she?”

I could only stare downwards with eyes painfully wide.

“I studied it all... after my colleagues and I injected ourselves, we had plenty of time to study your history. We suspected that things would have gone an entire different way if you hadn't sealed them with your... trip. Once you went into it, it had to go forward, it all had to happen to fit you in. So, you see...” he trailed off for a moment. I glanced at him. He still had that horrifying grimace on his face, and his eyes were once more hidden under the reflection in his glasses. “You see now. None of us is nowhere near you when it comes to mass murder. You count in billions, Bloody Empress. That's how me and my friends called you.”

My hands let go of the sink and I fell onto my rear. That's where I remained, sitting on the cold tiles. My mind was blank, not registering anything. I didn't blink, and didn't feel my wide-open eyes prickling and stinging in the air. I didn't cry. I didn't shake. My breath was slow and shallow on my parted lips, my heartbeat was racing madly.

I sat there like a stiff doll.

I didn't even notice when he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Twisted ankle - see chapter #2.  
> *Doctor Who story - see chapter #1.  
> *Wall Martha - see chapter #6.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	18. The Titan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swearing. Lots of it. As usual. Back to Armin's point of view.

“Commander, Squad Leader Zacharius is following the trail left by the warriors. Starting from where we found Cadet Hoover, it's now over 25 miles towards the North. The blood trace is getting scarcer, though.” Nanaba stood at attention as they reported the mission progress. “Squad Leader believes those marks were left by former Cadet Annie Leonhart.”

Armin held back a sigh.

_Like I've expected. It's going to lead us to a place where we can be assaulted at the enemy's advantage. Most likely. Unless Annie is still in the resistance movement... She didn't kill Bertolt, after all. Was she told not to, or she simply didn't want it? They know that Bertolt and Reiner are no longer under their command, not after they interrupted three days ago. So if she had been told to kill them, and she didn't..._

“Bring the map, Arlert,” Erwin asked. Armin straightened up, nodded, and walked over to a wide bookshelf. He knew where the maps were – it had become a habit for him to assist the Commander with planning minor movements. Armin suspected that Jean's jokes about a promotion hanging above his blond head were not so far off.

_… if she was commanded to wipe them out, it'd mean that she had defied the orders. No, that can't be it. It'd be too easy to check if Bertolt and Reiner survived. So... she either wasn't asked to do anything... or she was asked to look like she defied the orders... She injured Bertolt only enough to stop him from following._

He remembered how he was brought back to the infirmary. Soon after, Hange walked into the room with Bertolt thrown over their shoulders like a sack of potatoes, and slid him onto an unoccupied bed. Hange was sturdy, a seasoned veteran, but the sight of them carrying a 6'4 man like he weighted nothing was beyond impressive. Bertolt was unconscious and covered in his own blood. His left arm was ending around his elbow and it was steaming.

 _He must be going insane in the dungeon_ , Armin thought blankly. _Not knowing what's going on. It's been two days and he's been kept without any new information._

Armin unrolled the map on the Commander's desk, careful not to disturb the stacks of papers. All of them – Hange, Nanaba, Levi, Armin, and Erwin – peered at the painted areas.

“If it's going straight ahead,” Hange said slowly, “it's going towards the hills. They are going towards the hills, East of Karanese District.”

“I don't recall anything being there.” Nanaba bit their lips. “No settlements.”

“No, it's a desolated area.” Hange shook their head. “But... Erwin, wasn't there some old prison? I remember... something...”

“Not a prison. Not officially.” Erwin leaned back in his chair and titled his chin up a little, staring down at the map with a frown and lips in a tight line. “It used to be Nicholas Lobov's... detention house for people he did not favour.”

“Lobov, huh?” Levi repeated grimly. There weren't any buildings marked at the hills, but he glared at some spot in a way that would have some younger cadets wet themselves.

“Hange. I need plans of this building, with the areas around, if possible.” Erwin rolled the map and moved it aside.

“It should be in the Karanese archives, I guess...” Hange frowned. “But I wouldn't get the hopes high, Lobov surely had removed any trace from the formal records.”

“Give my regards to Commander Nile while you'll be there.” Erwin gave her a small smile. Hange grinned in reply.

“That should move things forward.” they cackled and saluted before they left the office.

“Nanaba, return to the squad and keep forwarding the updates.” Erwin nodded to them.

There was only him, Levi, and Armin in the room now. Erwin entwined his fingers and leaned his elbows on the desk, locking his thoughtful gaze onto the rolled map. The two other men waited.

 _He'll ask me to talk to Bertolt_ , Armin thought. _And Bertolt will talk. He will talk like hell. I wonder if he realises that saving ______ is far from being a priority here. We have no use of her, not any more, not really. We can hear things from Bertolt this way now, he'll spill anything to get her back._ He tightened his lips. _If I ever considered if I should get involved with anyone like that... this is a brilliant example why it's an utterly horrible idea._

_And yet, I'm envious. Involvement makes a person weaker, but I'm still a bit envious._

He half-scowled, half-smirked bitterly at himself in thought.

* * *

He heard Bertolt jump to his feet and run to the bars at the sole sound of someone coming down to the dungeon. As Armin approached his cell, he saw how horrible Bertolt looked, skin almost greyish, sunken eyes, dry lips, unkempt hair. He was clenching his fists on the bars, turning his knuckles white.

“Did you find her?” he rasped.

_I'm sorry, Bertolt. Even though I shouldn't be._

“Yes,” Armin said smoothly. “I need your help.”

Bertolt let go of the bars and rubbed his face with both palms. He sighed.

“What is it?”

_He's on his guard. Well, we've put him in the dungeons, after all. He knows why. He doesn't blame us. He thinks he deserves it... and he does, and far more than that. He's going to break. ______-san has been fixing him up for only months, he's still far from it._

_And... if that's what it takes..._

“Have you heard of Lobov's prison?” Armin bit his lips and stared without a blink into Bertolt's bloodshot eyes. Bertolt frowned and cast his gaze to the right.

“I've heard the name. Once. Our... informer, he mentioned it,” he said slowly. “But nothing about any prisons.”

“I see.”

_That's better than nothing, at least there seems to be some connection._

“Do you have any idea how many warriors could station at such base? And how many of them might be shifters?”

Bertolt shook his head.

“I wouldn't count for more than... 30... maybe 40. As for shifters... I don't know. It's been a long time. I don't know how things could have progressed, if they, umm... improved the... procedure.” He scowled with a tint of anguish and this time he glanced to the left. “But... at the past rate... maybe 10. Maybe 15... depending on how many warriors are there. Regardless of the numbers, uh, they will be the top ranked ones.”

15 skilled and experienced titan shifters... bad. Horribly bad.

“Do you know any names?”

“Few. We don't... use names among each other. It's an order. We... _they_... have- have numbers. _They_ have numbers.” He repeated the last words thoughtfully, tasting them. “Obviously, Reiner and Annie... that was necessary. The two captured... Erik Schumacher and Othmar Bauer... but that you know. I didn't know the... bald one.”

“Radim Podsednik,” Armin murmured.

“There was also, uh... Mu... Muray... no, Murat... I don't remember the last name. A shifter, similar to Annie's. That's all.”

“All right.” Armin rubbed his forehead and bit his lips again. “What about those two that died? The fourth in your group and, um, the informant?”

Bertolt's eyes shot wide open and he gulped. He took a couple of rapid breaths.

“Bertolt?” Armin stepped closer with concern on his face. “Maybe... maybe sit down. You look bad. Please, sit down.”

_The last time I asked him to sit down because of his state... that was when he confessed._

Bertolt obliged, but he didn't walk over to his cot, sitting on the cold, stone floor instead. Armin followed and plopped down cross-legged on the other side of the bars. Bertolt clasped his hand over his mouth and eyed Armin.

“... I... I don't think it's a good idea,” he uttered, letting his hand down. It was shaking. “There's no- no point, they are dead, they- they can't do- anything.”

_He's scared. And that means..._

“We know at least one of them, don't we?” Armin mumbled, staring at his own knees.

_But I don't know anyone who died a year after- after what happened at home. Except grandpa. But that's not an option, no matter how I look at it._

The nearly panicked expression on Bertolt's sweaty face was enough of a confirmation.

“Bertolt, please... I need to know... if not even for the strategy, just for... us. Please.” Armin leaned forward, his brows drawn together, lips parted.

Bertolt took a deep breath, and then spoke in such tiny whisper that Armin hoped he had misheard him.

“... Grisha Yeager...”

* * *

Armin did not tell Eren. He convinced himself that it was for the good of the mission, but deep in his mind he knew that he was afraid. Back in the dungeon, he held his composure and continued the... questioning until Bertolt could not take it any more, but his insides were twisting into sickening knots.

He forced himself to focus on the area before the conduct. It took a half of one night for Erwin to come up with a suitable plan after Hange brought the maps. They warned that the papers are 15 years old and there had been no chance whatsoever to get any newer ones, but it had to be enough.

Now, four days after the assault, they were about to venture into the lion's den.

Armin glanced to the right. Marco was riding beside him; his face expressed nothing. He had been like that ever since the failed patrol scheme – since Jean had not returned. Barely speaking, eating only because Sasha and Connie begged him to. Armin doubted that Marco slept much those days, if at all, and the dark circles under his eyes supported the suspicion.

He peeked to the left. Sasha kept her sight straight ahead. Her fingers gripped the reins stiffly to the point where her knuckles turned bone-white. Connie was peering at her from time to time and for a brief, mind-melding moment he locked his eyes with Armin's. The same grim determination shot through the air between them.

Night. Thin clouds covered the sky, on a seldom occasion allowing a few stars to indifferently stare down at the scattered formation. One day after the full moon. A faint circle of light pushed through the dark layer. The breaths were left behind as they rode on, white wisps dissolving in the sharp cold.

Had he been on a regular watch, Armin would have been half-asleep at such time. As the matters stood at that moment, he was as far from slumber as one could imagine. His stomach felt empty despite the obligatory meal the Corps had an hour before they left, but luckily the nausea had spared him.

And then, in a loosely grown forest, they were given a hushed command to dismount and leave the horses under frightened, alert eyes of five rookies.

Armin did not like it at all. Yes, there were trees around the manor. Good, tall trees, suitable for the 3DMG. There was the manor itself, the roof, the walls that crept five floors up. But there were also at least 30 warriors and possibly fifteen shifters.

He wished dearly that Reiner and Bertolt were trustworthy and that they were among the soldiers, not back in the headquarters, locked in the dungeons. Having them with their abilities around would be at the very least comforting.

 _But they are not here and I have to stop whining about this_ , Armin slapped himself mentally. He looked at Marco. Unexpectedly, he received an understanding stare back. _All right. You can do this. You have Marco with you. You are going to get her out of there, and run back to the horses, and ride back to the headquarters. You can do this._

He snapped to the reality when a suspicious hassle erupted at the front of the group. He marched between the soldiers and froze at the sight before him.

“Annie?!” Armin gasped and shot forward.

Annie was standing still, surrounded by drawn swords and hateful glares. She raised her arms and indifferently stared at people who were ready to kill her on the spot.

“Armin.” Her gaze shifted to him, but the expression remained unchanged. “I have information.”

Commander Erwin appeared, with Levi, Mike, and Hange behind him.

_If she really has information, they can't tie up and gag her. She has to be able to speak. If they don't do this, she can transform, and the plan A will fail completely. But... if her news could help... we can't trust her. But what if..._

* * *

Armin cringed as Marco knocked out one of the warriors.

They were quiet. Commander picked the soldiers excelling at stealth. While it wasn't useful against the titans, since they could smell the prey in their proximity, sneaking around humans unnoticed was an entirely different thing. And that was, apart from his intellectual abilities, a skill that Armin had mastered a long time before he even signed up to become a trainee. Hide or be bullied and beaten – that was enough of a reason to learn it.

_Third floor, second window from the corner._

_Annie, please, I beg you for this to be true._

They were told to only knock out the enemy, if possible. Otherwise... 

He pushed out the image of Marco twisting the neck of a short, blonde warrior. The guy looked too much like him. Instead, he peeked at his companion. It seemed that someone else took control of his body. The freckled face used to radiate sunshine despite the mood of the owner – and all that brightness was gone, pushed out by cold determination and bottled up anger.

 _That's what you get in the end_ , Armin thought sadly. _Nothing but torment. I can't do this to myself. I hope no one cares about me that much, in case I don't make it – sooner or later, doesn't matter._

An alarm bell started ringing. Someone didn't manage to hide well enough.

Armin took a deep breath and bit his lips. 

_Make sure that once we are discovered, the two of you remain unnoticed. Sneak up to the building and use the 3DMG to get into the room – after checking if it's the right one. Eliminate any threat inside. Carry ______-san outside and take cover back in the forest. Return to the dispatch point and ride back to the headquarters. Under any circumstances, do not stay._

Armin chewed Commander's orders over and over.

Marco pulled out his swords. A warrior was running in their direction, but he didn't seem to have noticed them yet. Armin clenched his teeth and looked away when Marco stabbed the man in the chest and cut off his head so fast that he didn't manage to make a sound.

_He's lost. Marco, you are lost. You are completely gone. What's going to happen to you now?_

That was the last guard they encountered before they reached the wanted location. Armin looked around intently and nodded to Marco. It was clear. They stepped back and shot out the wires next to the third floor window.

No reactions.

_Please, let it be this one. Please._

They carefully climbed up.

Armin peeked through the glass and exhaled with relief. She was there, sitting on a bed. She was alone. He exchanged looks with Marco. One more breath. He knocked.

No reaction.

_Can't be. It must be quiet in there, no way she didn't hear._

He knocked again, a bit louder.

“We don't have time for this... this window is locked anyway, look.” Marco pointed at firm clasps holding the separate wings together. “We need to break it.”

Without waiting for Armin's response, he tilted back until he was standing on the wall, parallel to the ground, removed one hook and shot it higher, above the window. He shifted his weight and did the same with the other link.

“Marco-”

He climbed up, crouched, sprang away from the bricks, and loosened the holds.

He swung right at the window, covering his face. In the next moment, he rolled inside on the floor that was covered with glass shards and pieces of the wooden frame. Armin jumped in and frowned. ______ only tilted her head slightly towards them. She was wearing a rich red dress. Her face was blank, dry, colourless. She didn't say anything. Armin felt panic creeping up his nerves.

_What's the meaning of this? What is this? She should've been on her feet, shocked, relieved... what's going on? Did she turn over to the enemy's side? What happened to her?_

“______-san, what is it?” Armin walked over to her on tip-toes and reached out his hand...

“DON'T TOUCH ME!”

She dodged and fell off the bed. She crawled until her back bumped on the wall and she curled up.

“DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T! GET OUT! GET AWAY! STAY AWAY FROM ME!” she screeched at the top of her lungs, hiding her face in her shaking hands.

_FUCK! They must have heard this, we don't have much time!_

“_-______-” Armin stammered.

“STAY AWAY!”

“It's me. It's Marco,” Marco said softly. He pushed Armin aside and knelt before her. Armin watched in marvel how all the coldness from Marco's face disappeared and the warm kindness found its way back to it. “It's Marco. I'm going to take care of you.”

Her posture loosened up a little and she let her hands down, staring at him pensively.

“It's Marco,” he murmured again.

“M...” she mumbled. “Mako? Is that you, my child? Mako?”

“N-” Marco stopped. “Yes. Yes, mum. It's me.”

_Come on, we don't have time..._

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before she reached out her hands to cup Marco's face. Armin blushed. Marco pulled her forward in a tight hug and she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“It's all right, mum. I'm here.”

“I missed you so much, Mako,” she whimpered quietly. “I missed you so much!”

Marco gulped. Sadness and pity spread all over his features.

“I missed you, too, mum.”

Armin flinched. He was sure he heard door slamming nearby.

“Come on,” he hissed in fear. “We have to go. Now.”

“Hold on, mum,” Marco said. “We are going out. Hang onto me and don't look.”

_She hates heights. Good thinking._

She wrapped her legs around Marco's waist and her arms around his neck, and closed her eyes obediently.

“Come on.”

And then they were flying, the hooks at the closest trees.

_We did it. We did it. Oh fuck, we did it._

“What the fuck?!”

Armin gasped and looked over. She was completely awake and alert, and she definitely was not calm.

“What the fuck?! Why am I- what the fuck?! How did you fucking got- FUCKING HELL, BRING ME DOWN! TO THE GROUND! NOW! FUUUCK!”

“Keep quiet, please!” Armin called loud enough to break it through the whistle of the air.

“It's okay, I'm not going to let you fall,” Marco said, bewildered.

“Please fucking tell me that's not a fucking boner, Bott,” she mumbled. Armin almost choked and Marco burned red.

“It's not!” he squeaked. “ _That's_ the flare gun!”

“Look out!” Armin screeched.

A titan loomed out from between the trees. 16 meters class.

Marco's focus didn't snap into the action in time. He and ______ hit a wrist-thick branch and went down with a thud. Thankfully, it wasn't so far to the ground. He fell onto his legs – then to his knees – Armin heard the horrible sound of a breaking bone – and then onto his side, onto the layer of damp leaves, but kept ______ safely in his arms.

And the titan noticed. It turned its head and stared down at the two.

 _Shit, I have to take it out_ , Armin thought. _Shit, shit, shit. There's no way Marco can go on, unless ______ heals his leg..._

But the titan did nothing. It only stared.

 _Shifter. This must be a shifter._ Armin clenched his teeth and drew his swords. _I'll try to kill it while it's focused on them... but... why isn't it doing anything? Could it be that they don't have the control over their titan? Like Eren, back then-_

“ARMIN, DON'T!” ______ screamed.

“Huh?” Armin landed on a wide branch and for a second he wobbled back and forth. He peered at her over his shoulder.

“It's Jean,” she said weakly. “Armin, it's Jean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think I forgot about my beloved Horseface? Ahh nooo...  
> Nanaba is gender neutral, like Hange, from what I remember, so here.  
> Lobov's name should be familiar to you if you read or watched ACWNR.


	19. F. U. B. A. R.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUBAR stands for _Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition_ and is one of the acronyms that was used in soldier speak during WWII (esp. by the US military, wikipedia list is [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_U.S._government_and_military_acronyms#F) if you are bored). Other abbreviations are, for example: SNAFU (situation normal, all fucked up), TARFU (things are really fucked up), or FUMTU (fucked up more than usual). FUBAR is probably for the worst situations. I know that Kodansha's official translation spelling for Bertl's name is Bertolt Hoover, but it still makes me snort when I remember the fan translated Bertholdt Fubar. It's just _so fucking fitting_.

_Pull yourself together, bitch._

_You have fucking work to do. No quitting yet. You fucked up beyond all recognition, so pull your fucking shit fucking together and fix it. THEN you may quit._

_Get up, you fucking piece of shit._

_Bloody fucking Empress, my ass. Pathetic._

“Fucking monkey,” I mumbled to myself, standing up from the cold bathroom tiles. My legs were numb. “Fucking monkey. I need to know more. He keeps making new titans. He conquers one area after another. Why? Why?” I leaned over the sink and splashed cool water over my face and neck.

 _You look like shit._ I stared at myself in the mirror. _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you-_

“Whatever do they even fucking need me here for?”

A knock at the door. I growled at the back of my throat.

“In!”

The door creaked open and then slammed shut. The visitor walked through the room and set something down with a metallic click.

“Ah, up and about, finally.” It was Mr. Glasses. Fucking monkey. “Good morning.”

_Huh, was I really sitting here all night? Fuck my life..._

“I brought you breakfast. You might find it a pleasant surprise, I dare to say.”

_I bet it's fucking rice._

I emerged from the bathroom, squinting my eyes in the daylight. Judging by the tone of it, it was a long time after dawn. Fucking monkey was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and the sane, polite mask was back on his face. I glanced at the metal tray he had placed on the table.

It was rice. And some apple mousse. Fucking apples. But there was...

“Is this fucking coffee?” I asked in disbelief, inhaling the heavenly scent. Months. It had been months. Fucking months. Coffee. Fucking coffee. Not waiting for an answer, my hand shot towards the mug and I took a big gulp. It burned my tongue and throat, which made me tear up, but I paid no mind.

 _I remember Bertolt missing coffee just as much_ , I thought and cast my eyes down to the carpet. _Maybe I could... maybe I could steal some and..._

“So.” I sat down and dug into my breakfast. “What is it that you need so many titans for? You've been pretty much making new ones for one fucking hundred years and you still keep it up. It's not like they are useful for anything than eating people, but once you are out of humans, you are also out of new titans, so making new ones just for the purpose of a genocide is... and now I confused myself with this word vomit.”

Mr. Glasses sat down on the other armchair and ran his fingers through his white-streaked hair.

“Radiation.”

My stomach sank. I swallowed another spoonful of rice, forgetting to cherish the taste.

“Everything outside Wall Anna is wastelands with radiation levels too high to survive. Even living inside, close to Anna, is suicide.” He stared through the window. “At the beginning, we had five walls. We made sure to wipe any memories about what's outside to keep people from trying to venture out. People are idiots like that. You tell them there's radiation, and a half of them will ignore it and keep stubbornly trying to return to their homes outside and whatnot.”

I chewed another spoonful so long that the apples and rice turned into bland goo between my teeth.

“At first, the titans were there just to keep people inside. After five years, we found another use for them.”

_So the titans came after the war. It wasn't the titans that wiped the humans out. Humans did. I guess they would do it regardless if I appeared here or not, the way things were progressing a century ago..._

_Would they?_

“We started sending them outside. A way to reclaim the land was invented. It was Grisha, actually, that came up with the idea. So we made the titans do it.”

“Radiation doesn't affect them?” I narrowed my eyes. A thought shot through my mind and my guts tightened painfully. “No... if the radiation didn't affect them, you wouldn't need new ones... at least not that many.”

“It affects them just as anybody else, only slower,” Mr. Glasses said calmly. “But titans don't complain. They are like golems. They don't need food nor rest, they don't speak and they obey every order.”

“And you created shifters to make it easier to get new mindless titans... golems. New golems,” I remarked. I pushed the tray aside, plates emptied, and grabbed the mug again. I could drink water just as much, all sense of taste and smell had suddenly left me.

“Precisely.” Mr. Glasses smiled with appreciation. “It's so delightful to see that you possess some degree of intelligence.”

“Just tell me...” I scratched the bridge of my nose and stared at him. “What's the point of reclaiming the land if you run out of people to live on it?”

He broke out in a laugh. The true beast was back for a brief moment and I cringed.

“Who said anything about them staying alive? Humanity butchered the planet once, they will do it again when they only get the chance. Not in a century, perhaps not in two, but sooner or later. Whatever for? None of us ever considered helping out the humans. We are patching up the home, not the vermin.”

_Oh boy._

“You may walk around this floor,” Mr. Glasses said as he got up from the armchair and nodded curtly. “But no further. There's a library at the end of the hallway, next to my office.”

“Good to know.” I smiled politely.

_Good to know indeed. I'm not going to stay here much longer. Now that I know the picture, I don't need the fucking monkey. I wonder if it's required to see him to make him kick the bucket... worth a try. But later. Patience. Patience._

* * *

I didn't want to sleep. Even if I did, I sincerely doubted that I would be able to. I only sat in the armchair, staring through the window at the forest and the hills that obscured the horizon and the walls. Clouds covered the sky, occasionally exposing a little patch of the starry sky. Now that I paid attention, I could point out some familiar constellations. My eyelids became a burden and I let them down. Not much of a difference.

_They will come for me. Not for me specifically, no, I'm not that important. But they know where I ended up, and they will follow to- to- this is an important place. They will try to get rid of the warriors. They will try to capture some alive..._

I frowned and rubbed my temples with my fingers.

_I can't let them know what... I did. Useful or not, once they hear about it, that's it for me. Not only they won't let me do anything to help, I'll end up... I don't even know where. And Bertolt's head will be on the line, too. I can't take out everyone in here... but... if I kill the fucking monkey..._

_I doubt that anyone else here knows that much about me._

_It will have to do._

I stood up and paced the room in circles, biting my lips.

_I'll have to... I have to break his neck. Anything else will be not enough. I could slice him in half, but what's use in that if I'll have to wait hell knows how long to regenerate? Neck it is... sever the spinal cord... Will that work?_

I jumped an inch in the air when the bells started ringing.

“What the hell?!” I hissed. I could hear commotion spreading inside and outside the building.

_It must be them. Shit. I can't be too late. Fuck._

I ran to the bed and lay down.

_Now or never. Or I'm screwed._

* * *

_What... the hell?_

I sat up.

_What the hell is this place?_

_What the hell am I wearing? Furisode? Why would I wear furisode? And the pattern's messed up..._

I coughed. The dark room spun before my eyes and I squeezed my eyelids shut to stop the dizziness.

“Mako-chan? Daijoubu desu ka? Doko desu ka? Mako-chan?”

I tried to find my child in the darkness, but my hopes for having luck faded rapidly.

A picture caged my mind. I was standing on a roof... what a strange place. There was a freckled boy in front of me, he was... No, those eyes... that's...

A knock at the window barely made it through into my vision. I managed to glance over my shoulder. There were two figures outside, peering into the room. The night obscured their faces.

The memory – because I convinced myself that it had been a memory – pulled me back in. A wave of concern and fear flooded me when I dashed towards the boy, catching a glimpse of a short blond figure that was running in the same direction.

_Save him. Save him._

The window burst into a thousand of glass shards. I tilted my head. They were two boys. One of them was getting up from the floor, the other approached me... He was small. Blond. He reached his hand to me...

I screamed. I had no idea what I was screaming, but it threw him off and I managed to scramble on the floor, to the wall.

The other boy stepped forward, I heard his footsteps on the glass.

“It's me. It's-”

I did my best to listen to him, but the panic and the fog around my mind made it difficult. But the name he gave me... the eyes...

“M...” I forced my tongue to work. “Mako? Is that you, my child? Mako?”

“Yes. Yes, mum. It's me.”

I felt a huge thorn being pulled out of my chest. The relief that seeped in through the hole it left was overwhelming.

_My child. My child. Oh god, my child._

* * *

_Fucked up beyond all recognition_ , I thought, staring up at the titan with a face that bore a striking resemblance to Jean. _This just can't get worse. Whatever I've ever said about things getting worse, this is it. Rock bottom is a light year above me._

“Armin, get back here!” I roared.

The titan was looking directly at me, doing nothing. I remembered Sonny and Bean, how their behaviour was exactly the same. Armin landed next to me and we knelt by Marco's sides. His face was pale and twisted in pain. I had heard his bone breaking when we had hit the ground. His attention, though, was dead set on the titan. I stood up.

“What are you doing?” Armin hissed. I glanced down at him. I didn't reply.

Instead, I took a step forward. And one more. All while staring at the titan, into the huge, narrow, black eyes with yellow glint to them. The titan tilted its head down to peer back at me. Armin whispered my name, but I paid no mind and kept walking until I stood at an arms range before its feet, with my chin lifted up.

“Jean.” I said dryly. “You hear me?”

I did not expect any reaction, and when it dropped onto its knee and bent its back down, my stomach shrunk into a size of a chestnut. The gigantic face was less than four feet from me, I could see my reflection in the enormous eye and notice every single speck of a too-familiar amber colour among the blackness. My chest rose and fell with every rapid wheeze I took.

“Jean?”

“JEAN!” Marco yelled. “JEAN, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! ARE YOU THERE?! JEAN?!”

To no avail. The titan didn't even peek at him, remaining entirely focused on me. I gulped. I took one more step. I reached out my hand and touched the giant cheek. It was very warm, warmer than Bertolt's skin, and surprisingly smooth.

“Oi, Jean,” I said sternly. “Come out. We've got to go.”

“I... I don't think... he... understands you,” Armin squeaked.

_Neither do I._

“We have to go,” Armin added. “We need to take Mar-”

“Shut up!” Marco spat. “I'm not going anywhere! They'll just cut him down and won't look behind if we don't do something!”

“Stand up, Jean,” I commanded.

He didn't.

“Stand up, motherfucking Horseface!”

He simply kept staring at me. I retracted my hand and slapped him. He flinched back... and the next moment I was squeezed in an enormous hand, lifted way too high above the ground. Armin and Marco screamed – I wanted to scream, too, but the grip was too tight for me to get any air into my lungs.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, what the fuck did I say about things getting worse?! They always can get fucking worse! WHAT NOW?!_

Rapid movement caught my eye. My chestnut stomach jumped up to my throat. Two soldiers were coming our way, undoubtedly to cut down the titan.

_FUCK._

_I..._

_Fuck, I don't want-_

_FUCK, FUCK, FUCK._

“Let – me – gooo,” I uttered.

_This is gonna kill Marco. I can't-_

_Fuuuuck, this hurts..._

_I think he broke my ribs..._

_I must survive, they will execute Bertolt if I'm-_

_Oh god..._

_You fucking piece of shit, come back!_

My eardrums nearly exploded when the titan roared and let go of me. Armin yelped and jumped towards us just in time to turn into a pillow for me to land on. All air that I had barely managed to gasp in left my lungs, my vision faded to black for a good moment, and I too was scared to count how many things I had broken.

“Watch out!” Marco bellowed. Armin's eyes shot up and he screeched. He grabbed me under my armpits and with shocking strength lifted me and ran away. I whimpered with every step he took. Tears streamed down my face. My head was spinning and my brain was mercilessly attacked by my pain receptors from all over my body. The ground shook.

Only when my sight returned, I saw the titan sprawled on the ground, and the soldiers landing next to it. Armin carefully set me on the ground next to Marco, scowling guiltily at my every wince of pain.

“No-” I panted. “Oh god, no-”

“They didn't do it,” Armin said quickly. “He collapsed on his own.”

“I'm gonna be sick,” I muttered. The nausea only got worse when I was laying, but sitting up was not an option. “All my bones are broken. And then some.” I stared at Marco. I managed to shuffle my arm a bit and I brushed my finger over his palm. He turned his head and looked at me.

“Wha-” Marco gasped. “Wait, don't! You are already-”

My body was so overwhelmed by the pain from all my injuries that I barely felt my tibia shattering.

“I told you not to do this!” Marco cried, getting to his knees next to me. “Look at you, you are all messed up!”

I snorted.

“Some news this is.” I coughed. “I'm fine. Give me a moment. Go check on Jean.”

Wires whizzed in the air as more and more soldiers gathered.

 _Seems like they are done_ , I remarked. _Didn't take them long. They are damn good, oh yes._

“Sir.”

“What happened, Arlert?” Erwin's figure appeared next to me. He watched me grimly. Blood was dripping from his left hand and he had plenty of cuts over his chest and arms. I was vaguely aware of Armin's explanations while I did my best to remain conscious. Marco was switching his attention between me and the fallen titan.

“I see,” Erwin murmured after Armin finished speaking. He turned his face to look at the gigantic body. “Cut him out.”

“You don't... even... know if his body... is... intact,” I rasped.

“But the more we wait, the worse it gets, right?” Armin peeked at me, then at Marco, and then at Erwin again. Marco bit his lips and rubbed his forehead.

“Bott, shoot the yellow flare.”

* * *

“We captured 8 warriors,” Sasha told me while she covered me with her cloak. I had Connie's cloak rolled under my head like a pillow, but it didn't prevent my brain from bouncing every time the wheel of the cart hit another bump on the road. The dawn was full on, and I still couldn't sleep.

“Squad Leader Zacharius found the Ape Titan man.”

I gritted my teeth.

_Please..._

“He was dead. No trace of injury on him.”

_Thank god..._

“I think it was poison, those two spies we caught after you were taken, they had poison in their teeth. Awful people. To think that-” She trailed off. I opened my eyes.

“To think what?” I asked. The cart skipped over another bump and I scowled.

“I don't think the brass will be glad about me saying this,” she whispered, leaning to my ear. “They locked up Bertolt and Reiner.”

“That's... not surprising,” I mumbled. “Oi, Horseface...” I strained myself to speak up. “Race me to the gate?”

“Fuck off, Colossal Bitch,” Jean groaned. He was rolled in cloaks like a cigar, and all stark naked underneath. His face was ridged with the titan shifter scars. Sasha cackled.

“Jean, come on.” Marco rolled his eyes.

“Fuck off, Colossal Bitch, _ma'am_ ,” Jean muttered. I snickered.

“Annie said that after the Ape Titan is gone, it shouldn't be too hard to deal with the rest of the Suzerain, or what do they call themselves,” Sasha said. “And... after that...”

No one finished the sentence for her. The sheer concept seemed too impossible.

_I just want to... forget. I don't want to remember the last couple of days. I just want..._

That was a concept that even I didn't want to think of.

“Just a little more, you poor thing.” Sasha stroked my hair. “We are almost there.”

_I wish._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Furisode is a type of kimono that is worn by young, unmarried women (it didn't use to be restricted to young women in the past centuries, though), and although The Reader was never married, it made no sense for her to wear it, you know why.  
> *Sonny and Bean's behaviour - see chapter #2.
> 
> Well, this time it took me longer to update, sorry. Life has been fucking shit. I mean more than usual. Oh well.  
> The story is getting close to the end... Please let me know what you think <3


	20. Unravelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is the truth, really? How can anyone ever tell? Can you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foul language, smut, so yeah, the usual. You can skip the smut if you feel like it, it's rather easy to see where it starts and there's nothing more plot-ish after it in this chapter.

It was horrible enough to shake around in the cart when it crept slowly through the forest, bouncing up and to the sides and reminding me how battered my body was – it _was_ horrible, yes, but I wanted to yell at the leading soldier to hurry up. Sasha had informed me fifteen minutes prior that we had been close to the headquarters and my hands itched to grip the innocent man's neck and roar into his ear to make the horses go faster.

“Get on with it,” Jean groaned. “I'm so hungry I could eat- _NO_ , don't you fucking dare to finish that sentence!” he yelped upon seeing my smirk.

“Marco, I'd watch out the next time he gets down to give you a-”

Marco coughed. Sasha laughed to tears. I cackled with her.

_They are all right. They are going to be okay. I got them through and they are still alive. I helped. I-_

_I caused it all._

My laugh died along with my smile.

“______-san?” Sasha called me quietly, stroking my shoulder. “Are ye unwell? In this state...”

“Huh?” The same grunt came from me, Marco, and Jean at the same time when we stared at her. Sasha rolled her eyes.

“I mean tha' she broke pretty much every bone in 'er body, what did ye think?”

“I'm fine,” I mumbled. “The bones have fixed already, I'm only tired as fuck.”

“Five minutes an' we're there,” Sasha said warmly. “And Bertl will take care of you.”

I pinched my lips tightly together and closed my eyes.

“'s okay,” Sasha hummed. “You did great.”

“You did fantastic,” Marco added, scooping my right hand in his.

_Please, don't, please..._

“I didn't-,” I rasped. “You have no idea-”

“'s all thanks to ye.” Sasha still held my shoulder and rubbed circles onto it with her thumb.

“It's my fault,” I whispered in a thin voice.

“What fault?” Sasha asked gently. “There is no fault, you helped, a lot! And you were so brava'!” She leaned down and hugged me. Marco squeezed my hand lightly and entwined our fingers, and then I felt another hand on the top of ours.

“Not a word,” Jean muttered.

_I don't deserve any of this. I'm the most horrible, the most despicable person in history. There's no one ever who did something worse than I did. No one. I should be resented and hated, not cared for._

“Hey, y'don' have to cry,” Sasha whispered tenderly. “'s almost ova'.”

I hiccuped and rubbed my eyelids with my free hand.

“There.” She grinned at me. “Look at tha', I can see tha main gate. Wai', I'll help ye sit up. Careful!”

“Hey!” Armin lined up his horse with the cart. “How are you feeling? You look much better.” He didn't leave me time for an answer, since he added, “I'm going ahead, to get the guys out. See you later!”

Sasha sat behind me and supported my back on her chest. I could watch as we approached the gate, which loomed above the heads of the horses and soldiers that rode before us. I strained my neck up as much as I managed to see more, anything, to spot Bertolt, or at least Armin – the latter, of course, would be hidden among the horses and soldiers with his short stature. Sasha noticed them first.

“Oi, Bertl! Reine'! 'ere!” She called, waving. “Hey, where a' ye goin', ye crazy woman?!” She tackled me to the bottom of the cart when I was about to jump off it. Adrenaline shot though my veins and all the pain and exhaustion were all forgotten for that one brief moment; I squirmed out of her grasp and landed on the ground, I ran pass the cart, the horses, the soldiers, the gate, and crashed into Bertolt's open arms. He knelt down to my level and wrapped me tightly, but carefully. I buried my face in his hair and tried to calm my breath, inhaling his scent. The surge of energy washed off and my knees shook.

“I'm tired,” I muttered when Bertolt scooped me up to cradle me to his chest. He whispered softly my name and I finally let myself fall asleep.

* * *

Warmth. I took a slow, deep breath. Freshly changed bedsheets. Bertolt's calm breaths ghosted over the side of my neck. My back was cuddled to his chest, his arm safely wrapped over my torso. Daylight descended onto my eyelids, strong enough even despite my closed eyes. I had one of my soft linen nightgowns on me, I noticed, when I rolled over to snuggle my face to his neck, to breath in his smell. My own body smelled of soap. I looked at him.

The moment I moved, Bertolt stirred and opened his eyes. He glanced at me under his long eyelashes and inched closer to leave a long, soft kiss on my forehead before he enveloped me in a hug and pressed his face to my hair, stroking my back. I sighed.

“You're here.” Bertolt whispered.

I gulped. He wove his fingers into my hair and kissed the top of my head.

“There were moments when... in the dungeon, there were moments when I thought... I just... imagined you.” He pinched his lips. “I mean... it does- it does sound- crazy, right?” He let out a high-pitched, hysterical giggle. “I thought I was losing... my mind... again.”

I rested my forehead on his chest and closed my eyes. I tightened my hands into fists, clutching his shirt.

“It's all my fault,” I uttered, forcing the words between my teeth.

“What? No, of course it's not, how it could be- how could it be your fault? Come on...” Bertolt pulled me up to his eye level and cupped my face. “There is absolutely nothing you-”

“Bertolt,” I choked out. “It is all my fucking fault, all of it!”

He frowned lightly before a flash of understanding appeared in his green eyes.

“The Head Suzerain talked to you.”

I nodded, averting my gaze.

“He... I... I did all of this, I-”

“Don't believe in whatever he told you,” Bertolt said quietly. “He is convincing. Was. He was convincing. That's how he...”

“He knew things that he couldn't just make up.” My face constricted and I squeezed my eyes shut. “It must be true. It must.”

“What things?” Bertolt asked softly.

“He knew about my daughter, he knew what kimono is, he knew what sushi is, he- he knew about- about the facility, he knew- he knew the city I used to live in- he said he was there! He said- said- he said,” I wheezed. “He said I made this all happen. All this. That-”

“That you turned the future into the story you went into?” Bertolt finished for me thoughtfully.

“... yes.”

He shuffled slightly and placed a little kiss on my lips. I opened my eyes, bewildered. He gave me a small, warm smile in reply.

“I sincerely doubt that,” Bertolt murmured calmly. “It may be that this is the same world, or maybe not. Or maybe the Suzerain himself got here from the same place as you. Have you considered that?” One more peck. “He was a master at manipulating people like this. He wouldn't tell you anything that sounded improbable. But... if by some impossible accident it's true... even then... none of it was your fault. Do you hear me? None of it.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I know the difference.”

“I-” I stopped, trying to control my voice. “I don't want- I can't- I-” I gasped frantically for air, feeling my eyes stinging and my throat clenching painfully.

“I mean it,” he whispered, brushing his lips on my forehead.

“Why me?” I whimpered. “Why me?” A strangled sob escaped my mouth. “Why me?”

It was like I had a horrifying wound that started with a little gash and then worsened, unattended and ignored, haphazardly covered under a layer of clothes and dirty bandages until it grew wide and festered and it swelled, gathering pus and blood. It was like the years-old scab broke apart and let all the vile pour out. It was ugly and scary, unsightly and pathetic.

And painful.

Oh, how painful.

I couldn't take a proper breath, any air was coming in or out of me in chokes and sobs, my face was a contorted mask, red, snotty and wet, and I wept like the kid that had held her cry twenty years before and had kept everything in a bottle ever since. Bertolt cradled me close, stroking my hair and back and leaving kisses on the top of my head while I muffled my wails in his shirt and wrapped my arm around his torso so tightly that it must have been at least uncomfortable, but he uttered not a single word of complain.

“You are doing great,” Bertolt murmured gently into my hair. “Let it all out.”

I clenched my teeth and bent my neck lower, shaking with a new wave of sobs.

_How the tables have turned._

“There's no way of knowing what actually happened.” I whispered hoarsely. “How am I supposed to live-”

“One day after another.” Bertolt said softly, smudging off my tears with the pads of his fingers. I dug my fingernails into his back and swallowed thickly. “I'll show you,” he added between placing feather-like kisses over my cheeks. A light, tender smile brightened his face. “You taught me well.”

I sighed and cupped his face in my hands, closing my eyes. Bertolt hummed and leaned closer to brush his lips over mine, moving his fingers to the back of my head, diving them into my hair.

“We should probably get up,” I murmured, resting my forehead against his again. “I'd throw a guess that it's quite late.”

As if summoned, the bell started ringing steadily. I counted seven beats.

“That's late as fuck for a soldier, isn't it?” I shot Bertolt a teasing glance.

“I don't think I'm a soldier any more, if I've ever been one to begin with,” he mumbled sourly. I tilted my head and bit his lower lip.

“If I were to take a guess... although... no, I can't,” I said thoughtfully.

“That doesn't sound like you,” Bertolt raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“I don't know... maybe if you stand up and take off those clothes, I might have a better look to say...”

“Now that does sound like you,” Bertolt chuckled despite the deep blush that heated up his face.

“But that's for later,” I sighed. “I'm starving.”

* * *

It was strangely comforting to sit on an uncomfortable bench in the cold mess hall, dressed in those plain linens, munching on the bland food, having to lean close to talk through the noise made by other soldiers. Bertolt wore his uniform, but without the gear or the straps. We plopped on the bench close enough for our thighs and shoulders to brush against each other, exchanging idiotic remarks and chuckling, tilting our heads together. While we were having our breakfast, the hall slowly emptied, with just a few soldiers lingering behind.

“Oooi, Mama Bott!”

A loud call cut through the hall. I frowned, peering over my shoulder towards the source. I choked on my porridge and sprang to my feet, attempting to hide Bertolt behind my back... which, of course, was not easy when said Bertolt grew additional 3 or 4 inches since he was a 6'4 teenager.

In the door to the mess hall was Jean – it was him who had just called me, it seemed – supported by Marco, with his face still rigged with the shifter scars. Next to them were Sasha and Connie, but it wasn't any of them that caused my reaction. Before them, facing us, stood Eren.

The matter with Eren was that he always looked angry. He could be sad, happy, or sleepy, and his eyes still looked angry. I barely noticed Marco trying to slap Jean's head, probably at the nickname he gave me, when Eren and the others approached us. I automatically extended my arms to the sides to shield Bertolt when he got to his feet, but this time... he scooped my right hand and entwined our fingers, taking a step to stand next to me. I peeked up at him and received a nervous, but reassuring glance from him. We walked towards the group and we met in the middle of the hall.

The few soldiers that were slow with their breakfast glued their eyes onto us.

Eren halted right in front of Bertolt, staring up at him. A bead of sweat ran down Bertolt's temple, but he stared back without wavering.

“You fucking psychopath, you-” Eren growled.

“EREN,” all the others hissed at once (except for Jean, who called him by his last name).

Eren gulped with an expression like he had just swallowed a dead cockroach... or maybe a living one. Bertolt's grip on my hand tightened slightly and I replied with a similar squeeze.

“Eren came here to tell you something,” Sasha poked in, glaring at Eren with raised eyebrows.

_Or rather he was dragged here. He looks just as comfortable in this situation as Bertolt._

Eren closed his eyes for a moment, before he stabbed his sight into Bertolt again.

“Armin told me something about you,” Eren drawled. “That you are not with... those others.”

Bertolt gulped.

“I- I- I'm not,” he stammered. “I'm not,” he repeated, this time firmer.

“And you told things to help us to get them.”

“Yes.”

Eren sighed and scratched the nape of his neck. Then he glared at Bertolt once more before he turned around and manoeuvred between his friends on his way out.

“I sincerely hope you fucking die. Soon. You disgust me. I don't want to see you ever again.”

"He was kind of supposed to word this differently..." Sasha mumbled. 

Once the door slammed shut behind him, I closed my eyes, exhaled, and dipped my head, leaning my side on Bertolt.

 _That's just one Eren_ , I thought. _How many others won't take that into consideration?_

_What are they going to do to us once it's all over?_

_What will they do to Bertolt? I doubt it changes much, considering-_

_Maybe we could run away and live in one of the Outer Walls..._

“______?” Bertolt called me gently, gazing at me with a shade of worry. My thoughts must have reflected on my face.

“Mm,” I pulled on a crooked smile.

“So great to see you in good shape!” Sasha jumped forward and wrapped her arms around me – and since I was pressed to Bertolt, he partly ended up in that hug. I felt him stiffen and I squeezed his hand. “You surely do come back to health fast,” Sasha commented smiling from ear to ear.

“Oi, Horseface,” I spoke up when Sasha stepped back. “Call me _that_ ever again and I'm going to rip your bollocks out. If you still have any after yesterday, that is,” I smirked. Jean scowled.

“If you insist, ma'am,” Jean brought back his shit-eating grin. “I can just go back to the other one, you Colossal Bitch, ma'am.”

I threw my head back and laughed.

Bertolt choked.

The rest brought in their trays and we finished the breakfast together. Aside for people with the maintenance duties, the day was called off after the expedition, so the time passed without hurry. Armin, Ymir, and Reiner joined us soon after we sat down and the atmosphere changed for better for good.

I was listening to Ymir, who was sitting next to me, when I remembered.

_She still doesn't know. And neither does Bertolt. Should I... should I tell them about Marcel? How big is the chance that Bertolt finds out? That'd be possible only if he, Reiner, or Annie saw Ymir's titan form... what is the chance of that? Should I talk to Bertolt first, or to Ymir? If at all?_

“So, ______...” Ymir slapped my back. “When are the little Hoovers due?”

I spat out my tea back into the mug. Bertolt flinched and knocked his mug over, spilling the contents all over the table and on his, mine, Ymir's, Reiner's, and Connie's laps. A collective yelp followed with disgruntled groans resonated in the hall. Bertolt hid his tomato red face in his hands. 

“What the fuck do you, people, have with this crap?” I rubbed my forehead.

“Armin told us _things_.” Sasha wiggled her eyebrows, laughing her ass off at everyone that got their clothes soaked. “ _Stockings_ , huh?”

Bertolt groaned under his palms. His ears were burning.

“ _Arlert..._ ” I grinned brightly, turning my eyes to meet his. Armin suddenly looked like he wanted to take a stroll... perhaps around Wall Rose. All around. Fast.

* * *

I untied the knot and let my stained skirt fall down to the floor. I tilted my head to watch Bertolt taking off his boots and then the white trousers. I smirked slyly and inched closer, halting him from reaching for dry ones.

“Mm?” Bertolt gazed at me under his eyelashes, a warm blush spread on his cheeks over an asking smile. I pressed myself close and snaked my hands around him, under his shirt and jacket, and raked my fingernails down his back. Bertolt shuddered.

“I've heard it's a day off,” I murmured, moving my fingers to his front, to the buttons of his shirt.

“I-is that s-so?” his voice hitched when I hooked my leg at his thigh.

“Would you rather get stable duty?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. I moved aside the loosened halves of his shirt and leaned the side of my head on his chest to listen to his crazy heartbeat.

“N-no-”

“Or perhaps you'd like to do something else, cadet Hoover?” I gazed up at him in a mocked smouldering manner.

He shivered again and his heart skipped a beat.

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, who?” This was just too good.

“Ma'am. Yes, m-ma'am.”

“Mhm...” I purred, sliding my hand down to brush it over his crotch. Bertolt hissed and bit back a swear. I pushed him, making him take a step back and bump the back of his knees against the bed frame; he plopped down and peered up at me. The blush on his cheeks deepened when he ran his eyes over my form, lingering at my thighs framed with the frilled tops of my grey stockings. I pulled off my sweater over my head and straddled Bertolt's lap.

“Are you going to listen to me, Hoover?” I asked daringly.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said quietly, breathing in my confidence. I stared into his eyes that were darkened with anticipation.

“Good boy...” I whispered directly into his ear. “And what is it that you had in your mind, Hoover?”

“Well-” Bertolt's hands travelled down my back and gave my butt a squeeze. I clicked my tongue and slapped his fingers.

“Nuh-uh, no touching.”

“S-sorry, ma'am...” Bertolt breathed, retracting his hands to rest them on the bed behind him. I smirked.

“That won't do...” I shook my head theatrically. I traced my index finger along his lower lip. Bertolt gasped and ran his fingers at the spot, feeling at a tiny cut that appeared there, watching the exact same cut surfacing on my own lip with a little drop of blood. He fixed his eyes onto that droplet with nearly feral intensity, with completely dilated pupils.

The whole play was all forgotten when Bertolt darted forward to capture my lips and suck and lick the blood off before he grasped me and flipped us onto the bed. He settled on top of me and ground his hips against mine and I sighed because oh was he hard... Bertolt slid his hand down from my neck to my chest and cupped my breast through my shirt, showering my face with kisses.

“Do it again... please...” he groaned into my mouth. I hooked my leg at his thigh and rolled my hips up to meet his movements, and I raked my fingernails down his chest. A brief moment of focus and Bertolt moaned aloud, melting into another deep kiss, lapping his tongue at every little hint of the copper taste.

 _I think I won't be asked to walk around much any time soon anyway_ , I thought hazily.

“Bertolt,” I hissed, grabbing a fistful of his hair and directing his face to look me in the eyes. His lips were slightly swollen and red from the kissing, a warm blush settled on his damp face, and his eyes... oh, the eyes...

“Yes?” He panted. His hand roamed my chest, popping one button of my shirt after another.

“Remember what I told you when we did this the first time?” I murmured, gliding my fingers over his torso, relishing in how delightful those muscles felt under my fingertips.

Bertolt closed his eyes for a second and then locked them with mine with a fiery glint.

“Until... you can't... speak?”

“Mmmhh- ye-yeah...!” I mewled when his hand went down to my pants. “A-and you know... hnnnn, Bertolt...” I hooked my fingers at the band of his underwear and pushed it down. I ran my hand up his erection, receiving a groan swallowed in a kiss. “I have you... in case I need... to walk... tomorrow...”

The moan he let out at my words sent butterflies swirling not just in my stomach, but all over my body. Bertolt pulled at my pants, but the garters were in the way of taking them lower than halfway my thighs, so he rolled us onto the side instead and snuggled my back to his chest. He grazed my skin from my shoulder, over my waist and hip to my thigh, where he grabbed it and lifted up a little. I sighed and arched my back, snaked my hand between my legs and directed him into me. Bertolt dug his fingernails into my thigh and buried his face in my hair to muffle a cry filled with relief and pleasure.

Bertolt let go of my leg and wrapped his arm around my chest, leaving kisses in my hair, on my jaw, neck, and shoulder and rocking his hips in slow, deep thrusts. I cradled that arm and covered his knuckles in my own feather kisses that mixed with panting and quiet moans. I reached my other hand behind me to tangle my fingers into his hair.

“I... love you...” His breath hitched. He pressed me closer. “Heavens... I love you... so much...”

I squeezed my eyelids shut, feeling my eyes sting and a hot blush creeping onto my cheeks. I entwined our fingers and pulled our hands to my breast.

“I love you... too...” I panted. “So much... ahhhhnn-”

Bertolt picked up the pace and I tilted my head back with a mewl.

“Plea... please...” Bertolt whispered before he placed his lips at the crook of my neck. I squeezed his hand and the next moment he groaned, sucking at a new little cut. He slipped his hand out of my grasp and dug his fingernails into my hip, pulling my behind flush to his hips, pushing into me hard and deep, panting into the nape of my neck.

I brought my fist up to my mouth and bit into my knuckles to stifle a loud whimper when I came undone, shuddering, bucking into Bertolt's lap. Bertolt gasped and ran his hand up to squeeze my breast under my shirt and his hips slammed home, he buried his face in my hair with a delighted groan.

Our muscles relaxed and we lay still for a good while, panting and leaning onto each other. Bertolt eased himself from me and moved his hand back to my chest, to scoop mine and entwine our fingers again. He left a gentle kiss on my shoulder.

“So...” he murmured tenderly, “do you think you can walk?”

I snorted.

“Maybe... I think we should do it again, just to be sure...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no shame ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I decided that Sasha in her top mother hen mode goes full on with her Dauper accent. Sasha, Armin, and Ymir are hardcore shippers... and if you got your hands on the SnK specials, then you know that Armin is a perv (and my spirit animal). The title of this chapter is in fact after the title of one of my favourite songs of all time - The Unravelling by DIR EN GREY.
> 
> That was the longest chapter in this fic I've written so far... I have so little to wrap up now, and I just keep on writing, fuck me and my fucking ideas. Thank you for sticking with me - and for all the comments and kudos and subscriptions! ♡


	21. 輪郭

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is coming... but what will it be? Things are certainly not looking good...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 輪郭 - りんかく - ri・n・ka・ku - outline, contours. This is actually after my beloved DIR EN GREY song of the same title.
> 
> Yesterday I stumbled upon a post with awesome Bertl fan arts, and I think I found a picture of what I guess Bertolt looks like in this story of mine, considering his age... The first three and the last two pictures [in this set](http://erwins-bitch.tumblr.com/post/134475654031/dorillis-skybluezafire-bertholdt-fubar), that would be it. Oh Bertolt...

Like in a mirror... weeks, months ago, it was me sitting in that chair, answering questions, receiving stares and listening to Moblit scratching my every word into his notebook, with Bertolt patiently waiting outside.

Now it was Bertolt who sat there, the same spot, Moblit scribbling his notes, Erwin throwing questions like knives. But I wasn't standing behind the door; I sat right next to Bertolt, hoping that my presence alone would help. My hand itched to sneak over and grab his, but I kept it firmly on my lap, clasped over the other. Bertolt was speaking quietly, eyes cast to the floor. His voice was dulled with resignation and exhaustion... and defeat.

It felt so wrong. The set, the questions, the atmosphere... 

_I fucking hate chairs._

Those were three days. Three days of questioning, let's put it that way, although my mind tagged it all as “fucking intimidating interrogation”. Mornings were for Reiner. Then there was a small break, and Annie sat there in the afternoons. Evenings were for Bertolt. Any contact with anybody else was forbidden. For Annie and Reiner it meant spending the rest of the day and night in the dungeon – each in a separate cell, far from one another. For Bertolt, well, it meant spending his day and night in a cell, too, but gods help anyone who'd try to stop me from sitting there with him.

It all went so fast, come to think of it. One day of peace after we returned from the Suzerain headquarters, and the very next day... this. And then another day, and another. On the fourth day, Erwin already had a plan and some of the people were out. Some dispatched to get the word to Queen Historia, Zackly, Pixis, and Dok, but the most went to start preparations for the route outside Wall Rose. To Shiganshina - and beyond.

Four days more, and they were ready. Good thing, right? Finally going to deal with the problem...

But...

The first thing that stirred my guts was that all three were called into Erwin's office at once. Something big was waiting to be announced, and when it came to be about Annie, Reiner, and Bertolt...

The second thing was Reiner's face when we intercepted in the dungeon tunnel. He was physically fine, all right, but one glance at him was enough to see that his safe soldier shell personality had been crumbled – undoubtedly by the interrogation – and what was left was... depressing. He smiled lightly when he saw us, but that was the least Reiner-like smile I had ever seen. Bertolt's hand shivered in mine at the sight and I noticed he was clenching his jaw forcefully.

The third thing was Annie. Her cell was the closest to the stairs and we met her last. She looked no different from the last time I saw her in the Suzerain headquarters, still in those clothes, her hair maybe a little dishevelled. But oh, was she furious. The pale face expressed close to nothing, but the icy-blue eyes were horribly bloodshot, eyelids dark and sunken, and those pale irises stood out so much that they seemed to be glowing with some sick light.

Our eyes met and that was when I knew what was about to be said.

There were four chairs in front of Erwin's desk, but I only motioned for the trio to sit down – I had no intention of doing so myself. I placed my feet firmly on the floor behind Bertolt's chair and crossed my arms on my chest. For a moment, I was looking down at Bertolt's head, and then slowly, very, very slowly, I shifted my gaze to Erwin.

Erwin held my stare long enough to confirm that he got the message. There was... a trace of understanding there?

 _Situation normal, all fucked up_ , I thought. _Three mass-murderers are sitting at my feet, and I'm about to defend them._

Erwin cleared his throat and moved aside a small stack of papers to have space to lean forward with his entwined hands neatly placed on the smooth surface. He watched us for full ten seconds, giving everyone extra time to feel uncomfortable, before he spoke up.

“There are two things I need to address,” he stated calmly. “I am sure that you have your suspicions considering one of them.”

_Of course I do. Upper folks either made up their mind or are in the process of deciding what to do with these three... and most likely me as well. And it ain't no good. But... what could possibly be the fucking other?_

Nothing came to my mind.

Erwin looked directly into my eyes.

“I have been wondering... considering that we found no injury on the body of the head Suzerain, the most possible explanation would be-”

“Yes, I did it,” I drawled indifferently. Bertolt stirred minimally.

_I don't like where this is going._

“I see. Now then, since upon finding his body that night, his temperature was still very close to the one of a living person, and assuming that his regular temperature did not differ, like in some titan shifter cases,” he glanced briefly at Bertolt, “I conclude that he died shortly before or even during our operation...”

_Erwin, you smart-ass motherfucker. You are onto ME._

_Could someone be eavesdropping on Bertolt and me back then?_

_… if so, they sure had hell of a time most of that day..._

I snapped myself out of the gut-warming memory.

“Indeed.” I shrugged.

“So you knew we were close?” Erwin stabbed his stare into me.

“Yes.”

_This is like a fucking IRS talk._

“Then... why?” His right eyebrow shot up, but his face did not express any kind of curiosity.

“It seems like helping out is losing its worth these days here.” I placed my hands on Bertolt's shoulders. He flinched and glanced up at me... I tightened my grip, feeling my heart skip a couple of heavy beats at the sight of ultimate resignation and defeat in his eyes. “Isn't dealing with a commanding officer a priority?”

“Isn't it, indeed...” Erwin sat back in his chair and placed his hands on the armrests. “There are other options than killing them, though, I'm sure you know that and would be capable of doing so, considering your skills in manipulating people.”

“I don't think growing back a leg or two would be enou-”

“I am speaking about the soldiers from the former 104th training squad. Particularly Marco Bott, Sasha Blouse, Connie Springer, and Jean Kirstein. Regarding the other topic I am going to talk about here yet, I require you to step down from influencing their views towards... _Cadets_ Hoover, Braun, and Leonhart. Because _that_ is exactly what the three Warriors _are_ for those soldiers. You have made Bott, Blouse, Springer, and Kirstein almost fully disregard who is guilty of the most horrifying mass murders since the appearance of the Titans themselves over one century ago. Tell me...” Erwin tilted his head a fraction to the side. “Are you really convinced that they would simply walk past such thing?”

I remembered that day in the dungeon, when I brought Marco back... when Bertolt was confronted by the rest of the squad and he broke down... 

_What was it exactly that I had thought then?_

_“I hope they are at least feeling very, very uneasy. Look at him. Look. Look what happened to him. Look what happened to his mind. Look how broken he is...”_

_I... I did that?_

_So... they aren't... friendly... I just... I controlled them?_

_Of course I did. How could I not notice how ridiculous it was? Friendship is one thing, but stepping over something THAT awful? Just like that?_

_He's right..._

_As always, motherfucker's right..._

I closed my eyes for a moment.

“I see,” Erwin said. “But... going back to the manipulation itself... why did you choose to murder him instead?”

“Does that count as murder when it's in a middle of a battle?” I scoffed.

“Let us set the terminology aside for a moment.” Erwin gave me a light smile. “And let me get to the point, then. What is it that you heard from the head Suzerain that you so desperately do not want us to know?”

Asking that, Erwin wasn't observing me; his gaze wandered between the shifter trio, searching for any reactions. I felt Bertolt tense under my hands. Reiner shuffled minimally in his chair. Annie remained as she was.

There was that annoying little break of silence, but I decided to cut it short.

“That's personal information, not influencing any of your matters in a slightest way. I will not tolerate any further questions about it.”

_I said too much._

“So dearly personal that you killed for it...?” Erwin's eyes were stabbed into mine again. He reached for the documents that he previously had moved aside, turned them towards us, and opened the cover. “I can see why.”

There is that feeling, so similar to when you are walking upstairs and lose balance, and start falling backwards... that kind of impression, but tenfold stronger, or maybe a hundred times, or more... I stared at a damaged, dirty, faded photograph that was attached to the first page of the folder.

_I remember that. That was my birthday. Three days before I realised I was pregnant._

I watched my smiling face. I remembered that I forced myself to that smile, but still, I was blooming.

_That was... that was 126 years ago..._

Reiner and Annie slowly turned their heads to slide their eyes from the picture to my face. Bertolt didn't. He kept staring at it.

“Manipulation, threat, blackmail, theft, falsification, impersonation, espionage, infiltrating a top security genetics facility, infiltrating a top security global nuclear facility, suspected murder, high treason.”

“I did not murder anybody,” I muttered automatically. I used to say it over and over and over so many times, years ago, that the phrase etched itself into the inside of my skull.

“Do tell how this information had found itself here.” Erwin's eyebrows shot up. “Also... this...” His fingers grazed over the edge of the photograph. “This is not a painting, but a remarkable print. Far beyond the possibilities of any printing machines used in the Walls. Let's say that the information was somehow extracted from you without your knowledge – that could in a way explain the contents of the folder... but the picture... the picture does not fit.” He paused for a moment. When he spoke again, it was so quiet that I had to focus to make out the words. “And for that, there is only one outline. You know what it is, and there is something more about it that you know, something concerning you, something that you killed for to obscure it from us. And one way or another, I will see what it is.”

My legs seemed to have been turned into jelly and cool sweat broke all over my body, working together with waves of heat and cold.

_I'm gonna be sick in a second, I'm gonna be sick..._

“You are not the only one who knows, aren't you?” Erwin asked after giving me a while for his conclusions to sink into my brain. With that, he turned his vision straight onto Bertolt. “I must specify that it's not just my own interest. Queen Historia herself demands to have as many facts collected as we can gather to have the clearest possible view into the case.”

“The case?”

I nearly managed to forget that Bertolt and I weren't the only guests in Erwin's office. Reiner spoke up in a dry, emotionless rasp.

“Our case?” he added, tilting his chin up a bit and taking a deep breath.

“Yes. This brings me to the second matter I mentioned when you came in.” Erwin closed the documents and moved them aside once more. “The Queen and the advisers have been discussing the fate of the three of you.” He nodded at Annie, Bertolt, and Reiner, “for the last couple of weeks. At this point, I should inform you that it is not about whether you will be executed or not, not any more. But, _at this point_ , it also directly concerns you, ______-san.”

“ _Executed or not?_ ” I asked slowly, trying to lower my pitch, but it seemed an octave higher anyway. For the time being, I determined to skip over my part in this matter.

“They are discussing the means.”

“The... me... means...” My shallow breathing accelerated so much that I began feeling dizzy. The room was spinning. I dug my fingers into Bertolt's shoulders and leaned forward. Bertolt turned his head around so rapidly that I heard his cervical vertebrae crunch. He was morbidly pale, but I doubted it was anywhere near how I looked. “You can't... you can't... you...”

Bertolt skipped to his feet and held me up when I was about to fall. He sat me on his chair and it was him now that stood behind me, keeping his hands on my shoulders. They were shaking. His hands. They were shaking. A lot.

“You can't...” I whispered.

“The decision is not up to me. It's The Queen's judgement, not mine,” Erwin said.

“If it were, you wouldn't change it,” I snarled.

“That is correct. That is how it needs to be. Even you can see that.”

“ _No._ ”

“Either way, in three days, the four of you will be transported to a designated place for a secluded trial under Queen Historia's lead. You will be put unconscious for the time of the journey and kept separate for safety measures. No outside watchers will be present, for the same reason, as well to avoid the risk of creating a determined mob with their own sense of... executing justice.”

He paused and kept the 10 seconds of silence again.

“Do you have any questions?”

No one had any. No one bothered speaking.

“Then that is all. You will be escorted back to your cells. ______-san, considering your input during the past months, you are allowed to choose whether to remain in the cell assigned to Hoover, or have your own. I must remind you that guards are standing outside all the time, non stop.”

* * *

We lay on the hard cot, entangled in each others' limbs and pressed flush to one another. I hid my face under Bertolt's chin, and he pressed his face into my hair, stroking my cheek. Wordlessly.

So that's how it feels.

I had been so close to dying so many times in my life, but it had always been a sudden situation, an air raid alarm, the wail of the alert sirens, a bullet grazing my leg, missing a falling chunk of concrete by mere seconds... but never like this.

Knowing and waiting.

I knew that it definitely wasn't a death sentence that was waiting for me. Time had been passing for me, that much I could notice by my hair growing, and my body doing its usual job every day. I had my own suspicions considering the possibility of having me actually physically harmed after I woke up with the drilling headache back in the Suzerain headquarters, but there was no way that any of the others could catch onto it. Even if they did, I would still be safe from having my head chopped off, or whatever they had in mind.

No. But that was how I felt. Like I was going to go, too.

It was late night or even dawn when the silence was cut; the guards had changed shifts twice since we had come back.

“I don't want to go,” Bertolt whispered shakily into my hair. “I don't want to leave you. I don't-”

His voice broke and I shuffled up to cup his face and place a long, tender kiss on his lips before I pressed my forehead to his. I had my eyes closed and when I opened them, I gazed straight into his; they were bloodshot and glistening with gathering tears. I couldn't hold that look. I shut my eyelids tight, fighting the pained scowl that was forcing itself onto my face.

“We'll work this out,” I muttered, doing my best to sound convincing, as much for him as for myself. “I know how Historia ticks. I have to have some... thing...” I trailed off.

There was _something_.

_Ymir._

“What is it?” Bertolt asked as quiet as a breath. He wove his fingers between my dishevelled strands and started gently undoing any knots that formed in my hair.

“She cares about Ymir,” I answered just as quietly. I snuggled my face closer, until my lips brushed the shell of his ear, making him shudder. His hands halted for a second before he resumed his tender work. “And... I know a thing about Ymir... but...”

“But?”

“It's...” I bit my lower lip.

Bertolt frowned.

“Ymir did something, didn't she? What was it?” He finished smoothing my hair and trailed his fingers to my cheek. I grasped them to press kisses on their pads until I collected my thoughts. “It's something... it concerns me, doesn't it?”

 _Always so smart_ , I smiled sadly in my mind. _No wonder he could put a challenge in chess for Armin._

“Yes,” I muttered. “Ymir is... ah... she's a shifter.”

“A shifter?” Bertolt hissed. “But how does that- that- she- Ymir ate him?” His voice hitched and he stopped abruptly. “She ate... Marcel...?”

His expression went blank and I could guess that he sank into reliving that memory. I let go of his hand and spattered kisses all over his face to draw his attention back to reality.

“She doesn't remember it,” I said.

“No one remembers that pa-” Bertolt closed his mouth, staring at the cell door. I followed his gaze and saw some young cadet peering through the little barred window. She couldn't be more than sixteen and was blushing furiously. I reflected on how Bertolt and I were wrapped in each other under the two blankets and amusement surfaced on my features.

“I understand and appreciate that you take guarding duty very seriously, cadet, but would you mind?” I drawled out, barely containing a laugh.

The rookie giggled awkwardly and retreated.

“For fuck's sake...” I mumbled. The prospect of forming a plan seemed to have lifted the mood a tiny bit. “The next time someone does it, I'm going to straddle you and-”

“How about we are _not_ having this conversation?” Bertolt pleaded. His ears were ruby red.

“How about you start training, because as hell I'm not doing that one alo-” I stopped.

_I've dropped the nuke._

“Huh?” Bertolt was utterly confused, frowning. “What? Why would you... talk... Wait... wha-” His features smoothed before his jaw dropped and his eyes were perfectly round. “Wha- I- I- y-you- we-? We- wait- you- you...?”

 _I think I broke my Bertolt._ I nodded. If my mind had its own separate body, it would have leaned back in its chair and support its head on its hand.

And then tears were pouring down his reddened cheeks, and he was laughing, and he was sobbing, and his voice was breaking, and he was smiling, showering my face and palms and fingers with wet kisses and muttering never-ending streams of I-love-you's. I allowed myself to simply enjoy it, smiling back at him, sneaking out one of my hands to rub circles on his back.

“We'll work this out,” he murmured at some point, repeating exactly my own words.

“Yeah. I only need to blackmail Her Majesty.” I shrugged. “I've done harder things without a hitch.”

_But I had failed at easier things, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's what happens when you freckle frackle, Bertolt, I don't know why you are so surprised.  
> The "10 seconds of staring" is a technique utilised by Lord Vetinari from Sir Terry Pratchett's _Discworld_ series.  
>  Chess challenge for Armin - it was officially stated that only Reiner, Bertolt, and Marco could pose a challenge in the game of chess for the beloved majestic fucking eagle. Nerds.
> 
> The next chapter will most likely be the last, the end _really_ is coming. I'm honestly getting emotional here, I love writing this story so much. I have one with Armin in drafts already, so don't worry, I'm not going away...


	22. 49, 50, 57, 102

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the trial...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Extremely** graphic and disturbing mentions of violence and torture below. You have been warned.

_That's the fucking Suzerain headquarters. Nice._

My blindfolds were removed and I was let out of the windowless carriage after Nanaba, who was my temporary guard, stepped out first. So much bother. I wouldn't be able to peek outside anyway. And now that we were here, I knew the place. I knew the way back, although I admit, there was no point for me to run back to the Survey Corps base.

I was only able to steal a single little glance at the three other carriages, containing Bertolt, Annie, and Reiner each, before I was taken inside the building.

“Nanaba,” I spoke up when we were walking along a narrow corridor, “I was granted a private meeting with the Queen, so if she's available, I'd like to see her now.”

“Wouldn't you like to sit down and get some water first?” Nanaba asked, frowning with concern at me. “You don't look good.”

“Yeah. I fucking wonder why.” I scowled. Apart from the obvious circumstances, the long ride in a sealed carriage with a fucking sack that stank of potatoes on my head was not an experience I would ever like to repeat. “I'm fine.”

“Very well, then. Oh, on a side note, I almost forgot... for safety reasons, you won't be called in public by your own name, just a nickname that was picked by The Queen herself.”

_What for?_

* * *

Historia was sitting by the window, staring at the forest. When I closed the door behind me, she turned her head and stood up.

“Queen.” I bowed my head a bit.

“Empress.” Historia dipped her head down and a bit to the side.

_Eh-_

_Oh. The title on the file._

_Fucking monkey._

The documents did not include anything that was not solid facts. No mentions of the research I was told about. Just plain old me. I could only pray that the other things were not written down anywhere to be found... they probably thought that it was some code name of mine. Like some bloody Black Widow. Cliché.

“You look very pale, are you all right?” Historia walked over and took my hands in hers.

“Fuck no,” I muttered. She led me over to the table and sat me down in her chair; she stepped around and plopped across me. There were two cups and a pitcher standing close to the window, she poured water to both and slid one of the glasses – because they were real, elaborate glasses – to me.

But that was really the single rich-looking detail in the room. Unlike the elaborate chamber I was kept in, this one had no decorations; it was equipped with plain, functional furniture. Well, there was also the crown, put carelessly on a shelf on some folded cloth. Both me and Historia wore simple shirts and skirts, no different from what anyone in the Corps would wear on the free days. I suspected that her magnificent royal garments were hidden in one of the drawers.

“I must tell you in advance that there is not much you can do,” she said quietly. “It's... they used to be... friends. _Krista_ cared about many people, those three were no exception. But there is no way they could ever get away with this, even if I thought otherwise, I couldn't let them go after what they did. I can't.”

_Play it cool. For now. Play it cool._

“There are worse things you can sentence them to than death,” I replied. “Living with something like this... there's been fucking enough of killing-”

“That won't do. I'm not going to change my mind. The weight of what they did is too much. We are talking about genocide. Their actions resulted in deaths of more than 350 thousand people. 350 thousand.”

“They were kids! Forced to do it! Brainwashed!” I was wondering if I was about to burn a hole in her face with the intensity of my stare. “They are not the ones that fucking should be tried.”

“We did take that into consideration,” she remarked. “That's going to get them a quick death.”

_And this girl used to be a sweet, polite to everyone Krista..._

I exhaled heavily. 

_Next..._

“I'm with child,” I whispered, tilting my chin up. For a split second, Historia brightened and a reminder of a smile tried to spread her lips – and then it was all washed down by the Queen.

_You think a person fighting for their loved one is dangerous? Fucking try a mother protecting her offspring._

“He brought it upon him by himself,” she said blankly. “Children or not, nothing has changed. I'm... sorry. But... you are not alone here,” she gave me a pitying smile. I replied with a glare of a cornered prey.

“You are right... I can always fucking talk to Ymir,” I hissed.

“Ymir?” her features smoothed.

“Ymir.” I ran my fingers through my hair, peering outside through the window. Snow was falling in thick petals, the perfect sort for snowballs and snowmen, for all the winter shenanigans.

 _Ten months_ , I thought. _That's almost a year. I've been here almost a year._

“I know things about Ymir that will destroy her mind.” I turned back to Historia. That was quite an exaggeration, but she didn't know that, did she? By all means necessary... “And I do mean it. You have known Ymir for a long time and you do understand her well, you click together... but you have no picture of her past. And there are such disgusting, appalling things in that bog that you can't begin to imagine. A word or two is going to bury her so deep that even your Queen privileges won't dig her up.”

Historia clenched her teeth and glared back at me. 

_Gotcha._

She closed her eyes for a moment.

“I...” She sighed. “I can't let my own personal business interfere. Do it, if that makes you feel better. The Queen has no right to follow her private wishes. I'm not some weakling that can't keep their spine stiff and bend over every emotion or feeling, no matter how difficult or dear it is.”

“And yet, you didn't execute your father,” I muttered. “He's done fucking enough to earn the death sentence, and he is sitting comfortably in a cell somewhere.”

“Besides, I've kept an eye on Ymir ever since we were twelve,” she continued, ignoring my remark. “What kind of a monstrosity can a kid up to twelve do?”

“You tell me.” I raised my eyebrows.

“Forget I've said that.” She scowled. “What I meant is-”

“She wasn't twelve,” I said. “And she as hell isn't twenty-something now.” I watched her eyes dulling with confusion. “So you didn't know? She didn't tell you?” I entwined my fingers under the table. “She's a shifter. Yes... she has been a titan for 60 years until she devoured a shifter to regain her control. A kid.”

_And now, here comes the bullshit..._

“The thing about shifters is that they don't remember whom they ate when they were still the regular titans.” I tilted my head. “With the exception of the titan power in the Reiss family... when they face the truth, they gain the memory of that moment.. and that completely fucks with their mind, to the point of losing it.”

“I don't believe you,” she whispered, but she went pale.

“Try me.” Cold flashed in my eyes. “But... if that still won't convince you, here's one more thing. You made a grand mistake by coming here, far from crowds.”

“Are you threatening me?” She spat. “What will killing me do? The place is full of soldiers and officers, my death won't change anything, it only will make things worse.”

“You underestimate me.” I smiled viciously, opening my eyes wide. _Go Kira on her._ “I can go on a rampage without as much as getting up from this chair. Ask Erwin. Ask how the fucking monkey died, if you haven't heard already. I can kill every single person in this shithole, and who is going to judge us then? There is no way you can stop me from doing that either. And... if by any chance you do murder them... I will bring them back. As many times as necessary.”

I leaned closer over the table, pushing the glass aside, narrowing my eyes.

“I've lost everyone I cared about in my life. I came here and found someone to trust and care about again, and I'm going to kick, punch, scratch, and scream to protect him. You get to be the Queen, but watch the Empress conquer.”

* * *

She sat in her rich attire, bearing her crown, chin held up, cold eyes set on the three shifters. They were still recovering from the effects of whatever they had been injected with to knock them out, seemingly suffering from crushing headaches and trying not to struggle with the handcuffs that bound them to tall iron poles, same looking as the one that held Eren in the military court... so long ago.

I pinched my lips and clenched my fists at the sight. I was standing between Armin and Nanaba, at the end of the row of the 104th soldiers. The hall was cold, I had goosebumps despite the sweaters, the thick stockings, the trousers, the skirts, the coat and the knitted shawl I borrowed from Sasha.

Or maybe it wasn't the cold.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Armin glancing at me every now and then, ever since we had entered the chamber. I gave in after a while and replied with an expressionless stare. There was something... he pinched his lips, too, and made a tiniest nod, moving his head up and down less than a half of an inch.

_What do you mean, Armin?_

I leaned forward a little and swept my vision along the cadets in my row. Jean, Ymir, and Connie locked their sight straight ahead. Marco and Sasha were gazing my way and sent me sad, worried glances.

I barely listened to Historia's speech, how she listed all the charges, how the soldiers, despite the discipline, murmured among each others – especially the Military Police. No, I didn't pay much attention to that. I was watching Bertolt, who was kneeling on the cold, stone floor, his arms pulled behind his back and chained at wrists, his head hung low, not even trying to look up from his knees. He wasn't pale, he wasn't shaking, he wasn't sweating, nor crying, nor reacting in any way – he was just... there. Stock still. Blood was dripping from his wrists where the handcuffs cut into his skin. It was not steaming, not healing up. Two red, tiny puddles were forming on the floor. One, two, three more drops and they merged into one pool.

_I came to this... world... to fix this titan shit up and have a run at having some calmer, simpler life... and here I am. Good job, me. Good fucking job._

“... re we continue, I need to warn you that you remain in the proximity at your own risk.”

I blinked and snapped my focus at Historia.

“I was informed that an assault attempt might be led, should the trial proceed in a direction against wishes of one of the sides.” She was staring right above the heads of the soldiers. “You are officially dismissed if you wish to leave, and no persecutions will be made against those that do not want to remain here.”

_So she really is taking me into consideration._

_Or... perhaps I wasn't the only one to tell her a thing or two._

My eyes shifted to the Military Police. Nile Dok was clenching his fists at his side so much that his knuckles turned white. He was observing the trio with utter disgust and hatred – although, of course, he wasn't alone. Few people gathered in the hall did not have the same expression.

Armin cursed under his nose.

_Of course he realised what was hidden under Historia's words._

I peered at him for a moment. His eyes were blown wide. He leaned to my ear.

“Please, tell me it wasn't you,” he hissed. He bit his lip.

I frowned and turned back to watch.

No one moved from their spots. I suspected that no one wanted to come out as a coward before their comrades and officers.

_Good. More to think about, Historia._

“I will call now individuals that wish to speak their mind in this matter, one at a time.” The Queen shuffled some papers and cast her eyes upon what I guessed was a list of names. “As the first official who used to interact with the culprits on a daily basis, I call Instructor Keith Shadis.”

For the first time, I had an opportunity to take a look at the man that probably had been haunting hundreds of soldiers in their nightmares. He was older now, his small beard nearly white – but his sunken, sharp eyes were still surrounded with dark shadows and wrinkles showing endless bitterness.

“Your Highness.” He saluted. His voice was low, raspy, and emotionless. “The facts are these: those three were magnificent trainees. While greatly varying in character, they all earned their places in the top five.” He paused. “My view on the matter is: they were among the best cadets I had under my eye during my duty. I could hardly believe the news about them, particularly considering Braun, whose personality made him a...” Shadis wavered for a moment, taking a glance at Reiner. “... an exceptionally trusted and reliable comrade to his fellow trainees.”

“Your recommendation, Instructor?” Historia dipped her head.

“For such crime-” He trailed off, stealing one more glance. “That would be death.”

I gulped and bit my lips.

“If that is all-” Historia began, but she was cut off.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Your Highness.” Shadis saluted again. “I haven't finished.”

“Go on, then, Instructor.” Historia did her best to control her face.

“That being said... As an instructor, I have a view into how the trainees develop mentally and how their environment affects their personality and behaviour. Sometimes it leads to... disqualifications.” He took a deep breath. “Those three here were no different from any other suitable cadet that year, nor any other year. How much of it was affected by their crimes, that's not for me to determine.”

I clenched my jaw. Armin shuffled next to me.

“My conclusion: death sentence is the best option if they have nothing left in them to suffer from the guilt. Upon my observations, that is not the case. My recommendation: forcing them to live with it, under whatever conditions should be found appropriate.” Shadis saluted. “That is all, Your Highness.”

One look at him and I knew.

That's what he had forced his own self to.

“Thank you, Instructor Shadis, you may rest.” Historia spoke as formally as possible. “I call the 13th Commander of the Survey Corps, Erwin Smith.”

Shadis and Erwin exchanged as much as a brief gaze when they passed each other on their ways, but it was... heavy, and made me uncomfortable by just witnessing it.

 _I don't want to listen to this_ , I thought. _I don't want to listen to this, I don't- why can't I sit down, I'm gonna be sick-_

“Your Highness,” Erwin saluted. “You, as well as most of the officers gathered here, have already heard my invoice in this matter, so I will make this short. No amount of good deeds can ever outweigh their guilt. Neither can their development, marked by Instructor Shadis. More than 300 thousand people should be out there, alive. They are not, and all that blood is on the hands of those three. That is unquestionable.”

 _Not just them_ , I wanted to shout. _You all have it. All of you. Every single one that's ever killed a titan, all of you._

“My recommendation: for such crime – death. That is all.”

Dot Pixis agreed with Shadis.

“They are going along the ranks now,” Armin mumbled to me, barely moving his lips. “If you are called in at all, I think you will be after the brass and before the cadets.”

Nile Dok gave a whole speech about how very much a death sentence is required and expressing his discontent at any suggestions of _making it quick_.

_Hange..._

“Your Highness.” Hange took off their glasses and saluted.

“Squad Commander, I was told that you wanted to talk about an experiment that could prove important to this case, should the results be positive.” Historia entwined her fingers and leaned forward.

“That's correct, Your Highness.”

“What...?” I whispered. “What... what...?” I glanced at Armin. He just nodded to me again, that barely noticeable move, and resumed watching.

“While searching through this very building, which used to be the enemy's headquarters, we have found a small laboratory. Undoubtedly, a larger one exists somewhere else – possibly many more – however, this one here was enough to gain significant knowledge concerning how titans are made. And not only titans.” Hange pinched their lips for a second and gazed at Bertolt, Annie, and Reiner. “That includes titan shifters.”

A sharp murmur rolled around the hall, but I wasn't paying attention to the soldiers. I could only see how it took five heartbeats – very fast, nervous heartbeats – for Bertolt's face to go completely white. His hand shook for a moment, making the chain ring quietly, and more drops of blood fall into the little puddle.

Reiner looked the same, minus the blood. Annie remained unchanged.

_49, 57, 102. I didn't ask him. It's... I felt it was one of the things that shouldn't be asked about until the other person is ready to talk. Was it the right choice? Or...?_

“Apart from these instructions, we also found files on twenty four titan shifters, from which thirteen were present at the headquarters. One that was slain by Bertolt Hoover near the training grounds... that was when the Empress was kidnapped and Bertolt rushed for rescue, ending up heavily wounded-”

“Please, about the experiment, Squad Commander.” Historia interrupted blankly.

_But now they are going to talk all about it and he has to hear it._

“My apologies, Your Highness. Yes, that was... yes. There was a mention of more shifters existing elsewhere, but the files were only about the twenty four. Thirteen at the headquarters, one that was killed near our training grounds, six declared dead in the documents – and four that were dispatched on a special mission, out of which one was declared dead as well. Their subject numbers are, as it follows: 49 – Bertolt Hoover, 50 – Marcel Hoover, declared dead, 57 – Reiner Braun, 102 – Annie Leonhart.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And another. And one more. The hall was as silent as if sound had never been a part of reality.

“The documents describe-” Hange bit their lips for a second, fighting a severely disturbed look from appearing on their face.

_If even Hange is that much upset..._

“The documents describe series of experiments performed on the shifters in order to achieve desirable features.” Hange rubbed their glasses. “We all know here what kind of monstrosities happen in the world. We've seen people being torn apart by titans, we've carried more bodies to be burned and left more bodies behind to rot alone than we'd ever like to remember.” They slipped the glasses into their pocket and bit their lips once more. “And even after all that, it took me a couple of attempts before I got through those files. There were... pictures, perfectly realistic in style... many of them...” They drew the glasses out of the pocket and started fiddling with them. “It begins with acquiring the regenerative abilities. To test the results, the subjects are submitted to various kinds of injuries along the process, like bruising and cutting, and going as far as pulling teeth, fracturing bones, slicing off muscle and tendons, damaging the internal organs, and amputation. To avoid obscuring the results, all of that is performed without any kind of additional medication, that includes painkillers.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to wave off the images that pestered my mind, imaginary scenes of kids tied up at clean, cold, metal tables, connected to some medical machines, injectors, needles, scalpels, blood, screams, whimpers, and tears.

_I shouldn't have let him off so easily. Oh, I shouldn't have. That's the one who should've been here, tied up and on his knees. I fucked up big time, one moment of panic and I fucked up so bad. I could've undermined those time travel theories of his so easily, just like Bertolt did, and it wouldn't be those three on the floor, and-_

“Once this phase is completed, the next steps vary. When the shifter is supposed to gain an ability that had already been used before, it doesn't require much input from the subject, it's a couple more injections, tests to verify the outcome, things like this. There are, however, cases when a new kind of skill is required... that's where the worst comes.”

“The _worst_?” Nanaba hissed next to me. “ _What in the hell_ is worse than those healing experiments?”

“As such, the second phase begins with trying the formulas on the human body of the future shifter. Depending on the planned outcome, it can go through skin degeneration or removal, abnormal growth of hardened and thickened skin on selected body parts, abnormal muscle growth or atrophy, anatomical disproportions and defects, among many other things. It also causes the body temperature to rise to levels lethal to humans not subjected to the initial regenerative abilities phase. The highest temperature recorded was on subject 49, Bertolt Hoover, reaching seven times over the maximum temperature a human body can bear before sustaining lethal damage.” Hange exhaled, their voice wavered. “To give a more understandable view on what numbers I'm talking about, that's almost three times as much as needed to boil water. The temperature of Bertolt Hoover's titan form is even higher than that, reaching more than six times the level of boiling water.”

Someone at the back of the hall started coughing on a verge of throwing up. Hurried footsteps echoed against the walls, door opened and slammed.

“The best results are achieved on the younger subjects, going along with the natural body growth and eventually influencing its path. Subjects from 41 to 110 were called in at the age of six. The phase of regenerative ability tests lasts around two years and less than thirty percent of subjects survive through it. Out of the remaining subjects, no more than thirty percent, once more, survives to achieve the required results. That gives about nine percent in total, from the initial count. From the 41-110 group, four kids made it. 49, 50, 57, and 102.”

“What... _what the hell_ is this...”

I didn't even know who mumbled that, someone behind me.

“The physical experiments weren't the only things performed on them. During those years, the children were also submitted to indoctrination and brainwashing, also with use of chemicals and-”

“Thank you, Squad Commander. We all got the picture.” I almost forgot about Historia. She sat there, pale with a shade of green, with cold sweat that broke all over her skin. I gazed around the hall. Many other people looked similar, some a bit better, some much worse.

Bertolt's chest was rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. His face was all damp and he was clenching his fists, which made the blood drip faster. His eyes, now wide open, were still fixed onto the floor.

I wanted to break the rank and crawl to him, throw away those fucking, bloody, disgusting, damned to hell handcuffs and wrap my arms around him, and press him close, and hold him, and wail, and cry forever.

“Your recommendation, Squad Commander?”

“They are as much at fault as a sword in someone else's hand.” Hange squeezed their fist around their glasses. “They've had enough of it, _for fuck's sake_ , let them live!”

“Thank you, Squad Commander. You are at rest.”

“I haven't exactly finished yet, Your Highness.” Hange saluted, forgetting they still held the goggles. “We found one more thing that is extremely important to this case.” They took a deep, deep breath. “We did find instructions on how to make titans, yes, but there is also information on how to undo the process. And how to remove the shifting and regenerating abilities from shifters.”

Whispers and murmurs elevated from the gathered soldiers, like buzzing in a nest of hornets.

“I see.” Historia tilted her head to the side minimally. Everyone stopped talking.

“We... tried it out already.”

_… what? Wha- what...? Hange, you- you did WHAT?_

My eyes trailed down to the still growing puddle of blood beneath Bertolt's hands.

“Bertolt Hoover's regenerating ability is the best of the three remaining shifters from their group. As you can see, after we injected the found chemicals – along with the substance to knock them all out for the time of the journey – the wounds on his wrists are not healing. I am... not proud of what I did. But it worked. They should not pose any danger any more. It requires of me to investigate this further, but I'm willing to take care of monitoring any changes in this matter.” Hange saluted. “That is all.”

_I'm going to be sick. I'm going to be sick._

Waves of heat and cold crashed over my body, one after another.

_I'm going to be sick._

“Empress?” Nanaba hissed worriedly. Their words bounced around my skull, muffled and barely decipherable. “Are you unwell? You are so pale-”

_Why- why did they do this? I'm going to be sick, oh god, I'm going to-_

My vision was going black, crumbling at the edges and falling apart, more and more, towards the centre.

“Empress-?” I think it was Armin's voice.

My knees gave up. Someone caught me, someone called my name – not the nickname they were supposed to use – was it Bertolt? Who was it?

My eyes closed and I tried to keep my mind in place, but it was sinking, drowning in cold and darkness.

* * *

_“I have made my decision. Annie Leonhart, Bertolt Hoover, Reiner Braun. For your crimes, I sentence you to death.”_

_No... no..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter. This time it really will be the last. Thank you for sticking with me for so long, you rock.
> 
> I think Historia, while she takes a great care of people as a queen, would be quite adamant like this. Or it's just that I'm tired with all the spineless dicks in GoT. You're royal, for fuck's sake, you have responsibilities, keep it in your pants as you should.
> 
> *It was officially stated that Colossal Titan's body temperature is 602 degrees Celsius.


	23. Open waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 years later...

“Who-” I huffed and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “Three years ago, who would have thought we would be going to see it? Wait a minute, I need a break.”

I bent forward and supported my arms on my thighs, taking deep breaths. The air was chilly for September, but the sun was bright and still warm on my back. Wall Anna, which scooped only a small crescent-shaped area hugged to Wall Hilde, was still rather desolate. Nothing but tall grass on high hills, rocks, sand, and streams. But there were late Autumn butterflies, there were bugs, and I even saw some pheasants in the distance. The place was alive.

“Who would have, indeed.” Armin panted next to me and sent me a silly smile, fixing up the leather strap on his chest.

“How are you even keeping up with this fucking gear?” I groaned, straightening up, feeling my vertebrae pop into place. “The last time my back was killing me like this, it was when I was a fucking land whale with Marceline inside. And don't even fucking mention my legs. They feel like stumps.”

Armin let out a wheezing laugh.

“That's the last hill, now we only walk down there, and we're by the wall,” he said, gesturing along our route.

“And then we have to climb the fuck up, and then climb down, and then fucking go the same way back to the gate, thanks a lot.” I scowled. “I'm fucking gonna shove this walking stick up the ass of that fucking guard. _You can't take horses outside Wall Hilde_ ,” I mocked the guard's voice. “Fuck you, assface. Fuck. You.”

“Let's get moving.” Armin chuckled. I sighed and resumed walking.

Like Armin had said, Wall Anna was close now. It took us maybe ten minutes to arrive at the base of it. I threw my head back to stare at the top that did not care to stare back at me from thirty metres up.

“At least it's lower than the others,” I pointed out. “Not that it would make a difference if we fell.”

“We are not going to fall.” Armin rolled his eyes. “Hop on.”

“You are all sweaty. Fucking gross.”

“I thought you don't mind sweaty?”

“Shut the fucking fuck up and get on with it.” I poked Armin's nape with my index finger.

Once I was firmly clasped to him in a piggyback, Armin grasped the triggers of his gear and there we went, up, faster than I could ever find comfortable. The air whistled in my ears and brushed my hair back, it bit at my eyes.

And then we were there.

“Just make it quick, it's way worse up here,” I mumbled slowly, staring ahead. My mouth was dry and lips chapped.

“I-” Armin's voice broke.

The sea looked like I remembered. Vast, wavy... normal, like I remembered. It smelled of salt, like I remembered. The colour was still the same – but there were no birds, the plants were scarce. Closer to the Wall, the vegetation seemed livelier, but the further my eyes wandered, the worse the grounds looked, until it was nothing but depressing wastelands.

_What for_ , I thought. _What was this all for?_

“Hey, you are not going to cry, are you?” I smirked. “Oh boy, you're such a sap.”

Armin pushed me lightly, sending me a pathetic glare.

“Okay, okay. I know, it's a big deal. But really, please, we can't stay long, radiation's frying in here. It's difficult to keep you up.”

I watched as Armin approached the edge of the Wall and sat down, his legs swinging thirty metres above the ground. I shoved my hands into my pockets and locked my eyes onto the horizon.

_Three years. Just a little more and it will be three years._

I wiped the blood that began seeping from my nose.

* * *

“... hear m..?”

“... you hea...?”

Someone was gently patting my cheek. I scowled.

“...n you hear me?”

“Can you hear me?”

I opened my eyes. Armin's face hovered inches above mine, and there was also Sasha's face, and Marco's, and-

“Wha- what-” I stammered. My arms sprang up and I pushed the three aside, sitting up in an instant. The room looked like it was spinning. I blinked, fighting a sudden wave of nausea.

“Hey, take it easy,” Marco murmured, carefully lowering me back onto the... what was it, anyway? Bed? Sofa? “You shouldn't be getting up like that, you'll just faint again.”

“What's- _I HAVE TO SPEAK!_ ” I shrieked, grabbing his arm and lifting myself up again. “SHE CAN'T JUST- JUST- THEM LIKE THAT, PEOPLE HAVE YET TO SPEAK! I HAVE TO-”

“Calm do-”

I was scratching at my face and pulling my hair, tears were streaming down my face.

“HOW COULD SHE?! _HOW COULD SHE?!_ ”

Someone entered the room.

“Stop making this fucking ruckus!” Ymir growled, closing the door. “Get your fucking shit together, two more fucking asskissers and you are called in. How the fuck do you look? What the fuck did you to do your hair? Empress, my ass!”

“What-” I uttered weakly. My hands slowly dropped to my lap and my eyelids fell halfway down as I gazed at her. “What's-”

* * *

“What's living in there now, what do you think?” Armin peeked over his shoulder at me.

“I don't know.” I tilted my head to the side. “I have no idea what could happen a century after such nuclear fuck up. Would there be anything left at all? I'm no scientist.”

“I think something _must_ be in there.” Armin smiled and turned back to admire. “It's too big to wipe it all out. Something always remains. If we are still here, then there's just as much of a chance for something to be there, too.”

I sat on my heels in the middle of the flat top to be as far from both edges as possible.

* * *

“You fucking forgot where you are?” Ymir stepped over and grabbed a small comb out of her pocket to start furiously fixing my hair. I winced when she pulled particularly hard at one of the strands.

“But- but she said- the- the-”

Sasha sat next to me and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe my face.

“Blow yer nose,” she asked. “There, 'ere ye go.”

“She said they are going to die...” I whimpered quietly. My features constricted again and I squeezed my eyelids shut, feeling new tears spill.

_Oh god, the hormones are kicking in. Beautiful timing._

“That should do it,” Ymir mumbled. “What the fuck are you talking about? Nothing's been said yet. Stop playing a fucking waterfall, you ain't going out there with fucking snot up your chin.”

“I've heard it...” I whispered. “I've heard it...”

“You've heard shit,” Ymir sighed. “You were down like a dick in the open before Hange even stepped down from the post.”

“Nothing's lost,” Marco said, rubbing my shoulder with a comforting smile.

“So you fucking better get the fuck up and kick their fucked, shit-filled asses,” Ymir drawled. “They sure as fuck are all constipated after Hange fucked the fucking shit up and Annie puked all over the fucking floor.”

I took the handkerchief from Sasha and wiped my face again.

“What she said,” Armin spoke up. He was pale. “I think this... _thing_... the effects might be worse than it was mentioned. At least on Annie.”

“Mentioned- wait- you-” I frowned. I was still dizzy and struggling to put words together. “You read it? You- know- you knew?”

“Yes.” Armin averted his gaze, casting his eyes sideways and to the floor. “I... came up with the plan. _Please!_ ” he yelped in panic at my expression. “You have to get it! If there's ever been a chance, that's where it is now! If they- if they can't- then it makes things-”

“I do get it,” I murmured. “And you did this without telling them.”

“Yes. Otherwise it wouldn't be-”

“Credible.” I pinched my lips. “This is disgusting.”

“Surprise, motherfucker!” Ymir snarled. “Big fucking news. Now get the fuck up and get the fuck out there.” She extended her hand and I was pulled to my feet. “Can you walk on your own, or do I have to fucking carry you?”

“I can walk,” I mumbled. “Thanks.”

She slapped my back and kept holding me under my elbow while we strode along some corridor that I didn't recognise.

“How are you doing?” I asked quietly.

She gave me a slow gaze, like a cat, before pointing her sight ahead.

“Don't you worry about me.”

* * *

“We should go,” I spoke up. My skin was as dry as paper; a little poke was enough to bruise it. “It's getting bad.”

Armin got to his feet and extended his hand to me.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He pulled me up and enveloped in a hug. I patted his back.

“You can smother me on the ground.” I coughed. A residue of tiniest red drops covered my palm. “Just... this time _slower_.”

* * *

We stopped at the hall door.

“Fucking chin the fuck up,” Ymir growled. “Back straight. Stiff this fucking spine, what the fuck are you, fucking rat shit or the Colossal Bitch? Fucking behave like one!”

I took a deep breath and listened to her. Ymir nodded and pushed the two-winged door open.

“... mendation, Squad Leader Ness?”

A man with a cloth wrapped on his head saluted at Historia.

“My recommendation: absolute removal of their shifting abilities and life imprisonment.”

“Thank you, Squad Leader. You are at rest.” Historia's sight wandered around the hall until she found me. “I call forward the Empress.”

A focused wave of frowns, whispers, and confused looks washed over me as I walked towards the post, one step after another, feet firm on the ground. My eyes lingered on Bertolt, who glanced up at me for a heartbeat before digging his gaze back into the floor. It took a lot not to stop right there and run to drop to my knees and wrap my arms around him.

But I finished the march and stood still at the designated spot, fixed my vision on the Queen, not breaking the contact all the while I gave a shallow bow.

“Your Highness.”

“Empress.”

_I have to look up to see you now. No difference. I feel like I'm staring down at you anyway._

* * *

Armin called my name.

“Hm? You were saying?” I raised my eyebrows.

“I asked if you were feeling better. You are still pale.”

“Oh? No, I'm fine. Conditions are way better down here.” I gave him a crooked smile.

We were striding down the first hill. Two pheasants crossed our path, shrieking at each other.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Hm?”

Armin chuckled.

“You are really deep in thought. Anything particular? If you don't mind me asking.”

"The trial."

His expression fell.

“I- oh. That's-”

“If you are going to give your apologies again, please, come on... you've been saying your sorry's the past three years.” I rolled my eyes and scowled.

“But I really am,” he whispered, peering at me with eyebrows drawn until a sad, worried wrinkle formed between them.

“For fuck's sake,” I muttered. “I want to be home before it gets dark and we still have a long way to go. So just... come on.”

* * *

I glared at Historia in silence for full ten seconds.

“I would like to begin with a question, if I may,” I said slowly, not bothering with speaking loudly. “How many titans had been slain at the hand of humanity?”

It was so quiet that my voice echoed from the walls anyway.

“Or should I say, how many _humans_ that had been experimented on were killed by the very soldiers in this room, as well their comrades and predecessors, with an assumption that they were saving _humans_ from slaughter? By following orders?”

I took a deep breath.

“In the end, that's where it goes down to. Following orders in the name of fuck knows what, without having an idea of what's really going on. The ones who are truly responsible are the ones who order the others around. And yet...” I turned to look at Bertolt. “... no generals are kneeling there. Not even anyone who wanted to get into all this.”

I turned back to face Historia.

“But if we go by the same rule you want to apply to those three, then everyone in this room is a murderer. Are you going to sentence all those soldiers, too? What about the officers? They give orders, after all, don't they? Hell, most of soldiers were the more proud of themselves the higher in the kill-count ranks they were! Without a trace of guilt! Nothing but satisfaction. What's more horrible here?”

An unsettling, disturbed murmur rose from the gathered groups.

“Bertolt, Marcel, Reiner, and Annie, they had a choice to make – to have their own people, their families and friends, turned into titans, or to prepare the ground for having people unknown to them to be used, having no pure idea how many would that even be, being just four kids. Do tell, what would you do? Ahhh, wait...” I scowled. “You _had_ done that already. Been doing it for decades. All of you.”

I clenched my fists at my sides.

“So... whatever choice you make here, Your Highness... I expect you to treat all the murderers in your army accordingly, on the same basis. Trace up the statistics, the kill-counts, the distinctions, the officers... I will help with that. I will make sure the word gets to the families and settlements from which the victims had come from, too. You have a high sense of justice and duty, after all, I've seen it up close. I expect no less in the future.”

I straightened my back even more and tilted my chin up.

“As for my recommendation. They are to be set free, and escorted back to their own homeland. Should the sentence be different, I shall venture over to that place and bring it up to the attention of their authorities, along with what I've stated here before. They do know, after all, how things are.”

Silence.

“Thank you, the Empress.” Historia spoke after a long while. She was pale. “You are at rest. As the first cadet to give their word, I call forward Cadet Eren Yeager.”

I marched over to my place between Nanaba and Armin. My hands were all sweaty and I couldn't keep them from shaking awfully.

“That was good,” Armin murmured, probably to draw my attention away from what Eren was saying. “I'm so glad you've made it. There is no one in this room who could go with this point of view without looking suspicious, and all this was important.”

“Do you think it will be enough?” I whispered faintly.

He didn't answer, only narrowed his lips.

“Oh god. I said nothing about how they helped to get the warriors, nothing about the resistance movement-” I mumbled, feeling my knees going soft again.

“I will speak about it,” Armin said under his breath. “I had talked with Bertolt about it back then, after all... before we rescued you. And... there's something... but...”

“Thank you, Cadet Yeager. You are at rest. I call forward Cadet Armin Arlert.”

* * *

“Eren is still not talking to you, is he?” I asked quietly. Wall Hilde was close now, all lit gold-orange by the setting sun. Armin smiled sadly.

“I don't think he will say a word to me any time soon. Maybe if it's something formal... but then again, he's been avoiding formal situations, too. After what I've said at the trial, I can see why... I miss him. And I miss Mikasa.”

“Sasha says they are doing quite well, though,” I patted his shoulder. “At least you know what's going on.”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“I hope that fucking guard is still on duty, I'll chop up his ass and feed it to him.” I growled, eyeing the Wall Hilde Gate.

* * *

The world slowly grew dark after the last traces of sunshine disappeared behind the Wall. I scowled with every step that my horse was taking, not used to such long rides – or rides as a whole, anyway. I had learnt the thing only a month prior, and I could swear my lower parts still hurt from the first time I got into the saddle.

_… Or maybe it's after last night. Yeah. That could be it._

“Big ass trees,” I announced, throwing an amused glance at Armin. The giant forest enveloped us, eradicating all the remaining light. Armin halted his horse for a moment to light a torch. Flames reflected in the puddles and droplets left on the leaves.

“Will you stay over for dinner?” I asked when the torch was nearly out. “We are almost there.”

Armin hummed thoughtfully, staring at the crossroad before us.

“No,” he answered finally. “I'll pop by to Jean and Marco's place. Reiner said something about... uh...”

“Do I even want to know?” I raised my eyebrows.

“... perhaps not.”

“Well then...” I directed my horse to the right. “See you tomorrow – unless you are leaving in the morning?”

“No, I'm going to stay for the next couple of days. Annie's father still isn't so well.”

“All right. Marceline will be delighted to fuck up your hair again.”

Armin groaned with a mocked pain, then laughed.

“Sure. Good night.”

* * *

I led our black mare to her cosy, little shed behind the house and started unbuckling her saddle. She turned her head and nuzzled my hair. I stroked her nose in return.

“Need help?”

I paused to look over my shoulder and smiled.

“That would be nice.” I let go of one of the straps and made my way to the open door. “But hug me first.”

Bertolt wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his chest, inhaling deeply.

“Marchi's in bed already. Springers came over with kids and all three were completely out by the evening. Connie had to carry the twins back.”

“The way Sasha looks, I'm pretty sure they are in for another pair,” I snorted.

“How was the sea?” he asked, rubbing gentle circles into my back.

“Radiation's bad,” I murmured, muffled slightly by his shirt. “But the sea was pretty. Like I remembered.”

“I wish I could see it.”

I sighed.

“Lean down and kiss me.”

“Yes, _ma'am_.” I heard a hopeful tint in his voice and I bit my lip. I tilted my head up and cupped Bertolt's face in my hands to stroke his cheeks with my thumbs. Our lips brushed ever so tenderly before they pressed together for a long, sweet moment. We parted and I sighed again. Bertie knelt down and I hugged him to my chest, running my fingers through his hair. I giggled.

“You smell of cooked rice. What did you make?”

He peered up at me and smirked.

“Sushi.”

“You did _what_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... that's it. My cinnamon roll fic is done. It took me much more time and way more words than I would have expected back when I had started it. But damn, was it fun. Thank you so much for sticking with me! ♡♡ Please, let me know what you think. Somewhere along writing this fic, I got into _Florence + The Machine_ and I think [this song](https://youtu.be/HGH-4jQZRcc) fits it rather well. 
> 
> Have you noticed how The Reader goes from calling Bertl by his last name to his first name, and then, finally to a sweet nickname in the end?
> 
> Fuck sad endings. Fuck. Them. With a dirty stick.


End file.
